Skip to main content

Full text of "Comedy of the tempest. Edited with notes by William J. Rolfe"

See other formats 


HANDBOLND 
AT  THE 


LNINERSITY  OF 
TORONTO  PRESS 


^^"fd 


'(  '< 


THE   KESSELSTADT   DEATH-MASK    (FROM   A   PHOTOGRAPH). 


SHAKESPEARE'S 


COMEDY   OF 


THE    TEMPEST. 


Edited,  with  Notes, 


WILLIAM  J.  ROLFE,  A.M., 

FORMERLY    HEAD    MASTER   OF    THE    HIGH    SCHOOL,   CAMBRIDGE,  MASS, 


IV ITU  ENGRAVINGS. 


524831 


NEW    YORK: 

HARP  1   R    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS 

FRANK  TIN      SQUARE. 

I  8  89. 


ENGLISH     CLASSICS. 

Edited  isy  \VM.  J.  ROLFE,  A.M. 

Ilhistrnted.     i6mo,  Cloth,  56  cents  per  volume  ;   Paper,  40  cents  per 

volume. 

Shakespeare's  Works. 

The  Merchant  of  Venice. 

The  laming  of  the  Shrew. 

Othello.                        • 

All 's  Well  that  Ends  Well. 

Julius  CKsar. 

Coriolanus.                        , 

A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream. 

I'he  Comedy  of  Errors. 

Macbeth. 

Cynibeline. 

Hamlet. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra. 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

Konieo  and  Juliet. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

As  You  Like  It. 

Love's  Labour  's  Lost. 

The  Tempest. 

'lyio  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

■J'welfth  Night. 

Tinion  of  .Athens. 

The  Winter's  Tale. 

Troilus  and  Cressida. 

King  John. 

Henr\'  VI.     Part  I. 

1                Kichard  11. 

Henn-  VI.     Part  II. 

Henry  IV.     Tart  1. 

HeniT  VI.     Part  III. 

Henrj'  IV.     Part  II. 

Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 

Henr\'  V. 

The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen. 

r.ichard   ill. 

Venus  and  Adonis,  Lucrece, 

etc. 

Henry  VIII. 

Sonnets. 

King  Lear. 

Titus  Andronicus. 

Gui.dsmith's  Select  Poems. 

Gkay's  Select  Poems. 

Pi.m.isHED  BY   HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  Nkw  V.-kk. 

15^"'  Any  0/ the  aboi>e  works  ivill  he  sent  by  mail^  postage  f<reptiiii,  to 

a/ty  part 

of  the  Utiited  States,  on  receipt  0/  the  price. 

Copyright,  1871,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 
Copyright,  1884,  by  Harper  &   Brothers. 


CONTENTS, 


Page 

Introduction  to  The  Tempest 7 

I.  The  History  of  the  Play 7 

II.  The  Sources  of  the  Plot 9 

III.  Critical  Comments  on  the  Play 10 

THE  TEMPEST 31 

Act  I 3:i 

"    II 54 

"  III 71 

"  IV 84 

"     V 94 

Notes 107 


Thy  groans 
Did  make  wolves  howl  (i.  2.  2S8). 


•'bermoothes.' 


INTRODUCTION 

TO 

THE    T  E  M  PEST. 


I.    HISTORY    OF    THE    PLAY. 

T/ie  Tempest  occupies  the  first  nineteen  pages  of  the  Folio 
of  1623,  and  no  earlier  edition  of  the  play  has  been  discov- 
ered. It  is  not  unlikely,  as  White  has  suggested,  that  "  it  was 
made  the  leading  play,  as  being  one  of  the  latest  and  most 
.admired  works  of  its  author."  Mr.  Joseph  Hunter*  has  at- 
tempted to  show  that  it  was  written  as  early  as  1596  ;  but  the 
commentators  generally  agree  that  the  date  cannot  be  put 
earlier  than  1603,  and  that  it  was  probably  as  late  as  i6n. 

*  New  Illustrations  of  Shakespeare  (i845\  ^^^-  '■  PP-  I---I57- 


8  THE    TEMPEST. 

The  speech  of  Gonzalo  (ii.  i),  "  I'  the  commonwealth  I  would 
by  contraries,"  etc.,  is  manifestly  copied  (see  p.  124  below) 
from  a  passage  in  Florio's  translation  of  Montaigne,  which 
appeared  in  1603.  ^V^e  must  therefore  believe  that  the  play 
was  written  after  that  time,  unless  we  adopt  the  hypothesis 
that  Shakespeare  had  seen  Florio's  work  in  manuscript.  The 
Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court  state  that  21ie  Tempest  was 
performed  before  King  James,  Nov.  ist,  161 1 ;  but  the  entrv, 
which  is  as  follows,  is  now  known  to  be  a  forgery  : 

Hallomas  nyght  was  presented 
By  the  Kings  ^^^  Whithall  before  y^  Kinges 

Ma"'  a  play  called  the  Tempest. 
"To  this  positive  external  testimony,"*  says  White,  " are 
to  be  added  some  external  probabilities.  First,  in  the  occur- 
rence of  a  passage  in  the  Introduction  to  Ben  Jonson's  Bar- 
tholojnciv  Fair,  written  between  1612  and  16 14,  which  has  a 
hit,  not  necessarily  ill-humored,  at  those  who  have  '  a  Serrant- 
monster'  in  their  dramatis  pcrsoice,  and  '  beget  Tales,  Tempests, 
and  such  like  Drolleries^  where  the  allusion  to  The  Tempest 
is  too  plain  to  be  mistaken — an  allusion  which  would  be  made 
only  when  the  impression  of  that  play  was  fresh  in  the  public 
mind.  Next,  in  the  publication  by  Sil[vester]  Jourdan  of  a 
quarto  pamphlet  entitled  'A  Discovery  of  the  Barmvdas,  oth- 
erwise called  the  He  of  Divels  :  by  Sir  Thomas  Gates,  Sir 
George  Sommers,  and  Captayne  New-port,  with  diuers  others'. 
London,  1610.'  This  pamphlet  tells  of  the  tempest  which 
scattered  the  fleet  commanded  by  Somers  and  Gates,  and  the 
happy  discovery,  by  some  of  the  shipwrecked,  of  land  which 
proved  to  be  the  Bermudas.  It  alludes  to  the  general  belief 
that  these  islands  '  were  nri'er  inhabited  by  any  Christian  or 
Heathen  people,'  being  '  reputed  a  most  prodigious  and  en- 
chanted place,'  adding  that,  nevertheless,  those  who  were  cast 
away  upon  them,  and  lived  there  nine  months,  found  the  air 
temperate  and  the  country  'abundantly  fruitful  of  all  fit  nec- 
*  The  entry,  though  a  forgery,  is  based  upon  correct  information. 


INTRODUCTIOX.  ^ 

essaries  for  the  sustentation  and  preservation  of  man's  life.' 
Prosperous  command  to  Ariel  '  to  fetch  dew  from  the  still- 
vex'd  Bermoothes'  makes  it  certain  that  the  Bermudas  are 
not  the  scene  of  The  Tempest^  though,  strangely  enough,  it  has 
produced  the  contrary  impression  on  many  minds  ;  but  this 
reference  to  these  islands,  and  allusion  to  their  storm-vexed 
coast,  connects  itself  naturally  with  the  publication  of  Jour- 
dan's  narrative.  It  is  highly  probable,  therefore,  that  The 
Tempest  \\z.s  written  about  1611. 

"The  thoughtful  reader  will, however,  find  in  the  compact 
simplicity  of  its  structure,  and  in  the  chastened  grandeur  of 
its  diction  and  the  lofty  severity  of  its  tone  of  thought,  tem- 
pered although  the  one  is  with' Shakespeare's  own  enchanting 
sweetness,  and  the  other  with  that  most  human  tenderness 
which  is  the  peculiar  trait  of  his  mind,  sufficient  evidence  that 
this  play  is  the  fruit  of  his  genius  in  its  full  maturity." 

II.    THE    SOURCES    OF    THE    PLOT. 

Shakespeare  usually  founded  his  plays  upon  some  well- 
known  history  or  romance,  and  the  plot  of  The  Tempest, 
though  the  critics  have  not  succeeded  in  tracing  it  to  its 
source,  was  probably  borrowed  from  some  old  Italian  or 
Spanish  novel.  Collins,  the  poet,  told  Thomas  Warton  that 
he  had  seen  such  a  novel,  with  the  title  of  Aurelio  and  Isa- 
bella, and  that  it  was  "printed  in  Italian,  Spanish,  French, 
and  English,  in  1588  ;"  and  Boswell  says  that  a  friend  of  his 
assured  him  that,  some  years  before,  he  had  "  actually  perused 
an  Italian  novel  which  answered  to  Collins's  description.'' 
But  Collins  was  insane  when  he  made  the  statement,  and 
Boswell's  friend  may  have  been  mistaken  ;  at  any  rate,  the 
romance  has  not  yet  been  found.  There  is  an  early  German 
play  (published  in  16 18)  called  Die  Schone  Sidea,  by  Jacob 
Ayrer,  a  notary  of  Nuremberg,  the  plot  of  which  is  somewhat 
like  that  of  The  Tetnpest,  and  this  has  led  several  critics  to 
suppose  that  the  two  were  drawn  from  the  same  source  ;  but 


lo  THE   TEMPEST. 

the  resemblance  is  hardly  close  enough  to  justify  the  conclu- 
sion. If  there  is  any  connection  between  the  plays,  it  is  pos- 
sible that  Ayrer  had  seen  llie  Tempest,  or  a  translation  of  it. 
Although,  according  to  Eschenburg,  no  reference  to  Shake- 
speare has  been  found  in  German  literature  farther  back  than 
1682,  it  is  certain  that  English  plays  were  translated  into  Ger- 
man as  early  as  1600. 

"As  to  the  actual  scene  of  The  Tempest,  that  is  in  the 
realms  of  fancy.  Mr.  Hunter  has  contended  that  Lampedu- 
sa,  'an  island  in  the  Mediterranean,  lying  not  far  out  of  a 
ship's  course  passing  fr9m  Tunis  to  Naples,'  and  which  is 
uninhabited,  and  supposed  by  sailors  to  be  enchanted,  was 
Prosperous  place  of  exile.  It  may  have  been  ;  though  if  it 
were,  we  would  a  little  rather  not  believe  so.  When  the  great 
magician  at  whose  beck  it  rose  from  the  waters  broke  his 
staff,  the  island  sunk,  and  carried  Caliban  down  with  it"  (W.). 

III.    CRITICAL   COMMENTS    ON    THE    PLAY. 
S^From  Coleridge's  Notes  oti  Shakespea7-e.*'\ 

The  Tempest  is  a  specimen  of  the  purely  romantic  drama, 
in  which  the  interest  is  not  historical,  or  dependent  upon 
fidelity  of  portraiture,  or  the  natural  connection  of  events; 
bat  is  a  birth  of  the  imagination,  and  rests  only  on  the  co 
aptation  and  union  of  the  elements  granted  to,  or  assumed 
by,  the  poet.  It  is  a  species  of  drama  which  owes  no  alle- 
giance to  time  or  space,  and  in  which,  therefore,  errors  of 
chronology  and  geography — no  mortal  sins  in  any  species — 
are  venial  faults,  and  count  for  nothing.  It  addresses  itself 
entirely  to  the  imaginative  faculty  ;  and  although  the  illusion 
may  be  assisted  by  the  effect  on  the  senses  of  the  complicated 
scenery  and  decorations  of  modern  times,  yet  this  sort  of  as- 
sistance is  dangerous.  For  the  principal  and  only  genuine 
excitement  ought  to  come  from  within — from  the  moved  and 
sympathetic  imagination  ;  whereas,  where  so  much  is  address- 
*  Coleridge's  Works  (Harper's  ed.),  vol.  iv.  p.  74  toll. 


introduction:  i  i 

ed  to  the  mere  external  senses  of  seeing  and  hearing,  the  spir- 
itual vision  is  apt  to  languish,  and  the  attraction  from  without 
will  withdraw  the  mind  from  the  proper  and  only  legitimate 
interest  which  is  intended  to  spring  from  within. 

The  romance  opens  with  a  busy  scene  admirably  appropri- 
ate to  the  kind  of  drama,  and  giving,  as  it  were,  the  key-note 
to  the  whole  harmony.  It  prepares  and  initiates  the  excite- 
ment required  for  the  entire  piece,  and  yet  does  not  demand 
any  thing  from  the  spectators  which  their  previous  habits  had 
not  fitted  them  to  understand.  It  is  the  bustle  of  a  tempest, 
from  which  the  real  horrors  are  abstracted  ;  therefore  it  is 
poetical,  though  not  in  strictness  natural,  and  is  purposely 
restrained  from  concentring  the  interest  on  itself,  but  used 
merely  as  an  induction  or  tuning  for  what  is  to  follow. 

In  the  second  scene,  Prospero's  speeches,  till  the  entrance 
of  Ariel,  contain  the  finest  example  I  remember  of  retrospect- 
ive narration  for  the  purpose  of  exciting  immediate  interest, 
and  putting  the  audience  in  possession  of  all  the  information 
necessary  for  the  understanding  of  the  plot.  Observe,  too, 
the  perfect  probability  of  the  moment  chosen  by  Prospero 
(the  very  Shakespeare  himself,  as  it  were,  of  the  tempest)  to 
open  out  the  truth  to  his  daughter,  his  own  romantic  bearing, 
and  how  completely  any  thing  that  might  have  been  disagree- 
able to  us  in  the  magician  is  reconcilable  and  shaded  in  the 
humanity  and  natural  feelings  of  the  father.  In  the  very  first 
speech  of  Miranda  the  simplicity  and  tenderness  of  her  char- 
acter are  at  once  laid  open — it  would  have  been  lost  in  di- 
rect contact  with  the  agitation  of  the  first  scene 

Ariel  has  in  everything  the  airy  tint  which  gives  the  name. 
And  it  is  worthy  of  remark  that  Miranda  is  never  directly 
brought  into  conTparison  with  Ariel,  lest  the  natural  and  hu- 
man of  the  one  and  the  supernatural  of  the  other  should  tend 
to  neutralize  each  other.  Caliban,  on  the  other  hand,  is  all 
earth,  all  condensed  and  groes  in  feelings  and  images  ;  he 
has  the  dawnings  of  understanding,  without  reason  or  the 


12  THE   TEMPEST. 

moral  sense  ;  and  in  him,  as  in  some  brute  animals,  this  ad- 
vance to  the  intellectual  faculties,  without  the  moral  sense,  is 
marked  by  the  appearance  of  vice.  For  it  is  in  the  primacy 
of  the  moral  being  only  that  man  is  truly  human  ;  in  his  in- 
tellectual powers  he  is  certainly  approached  by  the  brutes, 
and,  man's  whole  system  duly  considered,  those  powers  can- 
not be  considered  other  than  means  to  an  end,  that  is,  to  m.o- 
rality.  ... 

In  this  play  are  admirably  sketched  the  vi.^eri  generally  ac- 
companying a  low  degree  of  civilization  ;  and  in  the  first 
scene  of  the  second  act  ^Shakespeare  has,  as  in  many  other 
places,  shown  the  tendency  in  bad  men  to  indulge  in  scorn 
and  contemptuous  expressions,  as  a  mode  of  getting  rid  of 
their  own  uneasy  feelings  of  inferiority  to  the  good,  and  also, 
by  making  the  good  ridiculous,  of  rendering  the  transition  of 
others  to  wickedness  easy.  Shakespeare  never  puts  habit- 
ual scorn  into  the  mouths  of  other  than  bad  men,  as  here  in 
the  instance  of  Antonio  and  Sebastian.  The  scene  of  the 
intended  assassination  of  Alonso  and  Gonzalo  is  an  exact 
counterpart  of  the  scene  between  Macbeth  and  his  lady,  only 
pitched  in  a  lower  key  throughout,  as  designed  to  be  frus- 
trated or  concealed,  and  exhibiting  the  same  profound  man- 
agement in  the  manner  of  familiarizing  a  mind  not  immedi- 
ately recipient  to  the  suggestion  of  guilt,  by  associating  the 
proposed  crime  with  something  ludicrous  or  out  of  place- 
something  not  habitually  matter  of  reverence.  By  this  kind 
of  sophistry  the  imagination  and  fancy  are  first  bribed  to  con- 
template the  suggested  act,  and  at  length  to  become  acquaint- 
ed with  it.  Observe  how  the  effect  of  this  scene  is  height- 
ened by  contrast  of  another  counterpart  of  it  in  low  life — 
that  between  the  conspirators,  Stephano,  Caliban,  and  Trin- 
culo,  in  the  second  scene  of  the  third  act,  in  which  there  are 
the  same  essential  characteristics. 

In  this  play,  and  in  this  scene  of  it,  are  also  shown  the 
springs  of  the  vulgar  in  politics — of  that  kind  of  politics  which 


IXTRODUCTIOX. 


13 


is  inwoven  with  human  nature.  In  his  treatment  of  this  sub- 
ject, wherever  it  occurs,  Shakespeare  is  quite  peculiar.  In 
other  writers  we  find  the  particular  opinions  of  the  individ- 
ual ;  .  .  .  but  Shakespeare  never  promulgates  any  party  ten- 
ets. He  is  always  the  philosopher  and  the  moralist,  but,  at 
the  same  time,  with  a  profound  veneration  for  all  the  estab- 
lished institutions  of  society,  and  for  those  classes  which  form 
the  permanent  elements  of  the  state — especially  never  intro- 
ducing a  professional  character,  as  such,  otherwise  than  as 
respectable.  If  he  must  have  any  name,  he  should  be  styled 
a  philosophical  aristocrat,  delighting  in  those  hereditary  in- 
stitutions which  have  a  tendency  to  bind  one  age  to  another, 
and  in  that  distinction  of  ranks  of  which,  although  few  may 
be  in  possession,  all  enjoy  the  advantages.  Hence,  again, 
you  will  observe  the  good  nature  with  which  he  seems  always 
to  make  sport  with  the  passions  and  follies  of  a  mob,  as  with 
an  irrational  animal.  He  is  never  angry  w'ith  it,  but  hugely 
content  with  holding  up  its  absurdities  to  its  face  ;  and  some- 
times you  may  trace  a  tone  of  almost  affectionate  superiority, 
something  like  that  in  which  a  father  speaks  of  the  rogueries 
of  a  child.  See  the  good-humoured  way  in  which  he  de- 
scribes Stephano,  passing  from  the  most  licentious  freedom 
to  absolute  despotism  over  Trinculo  and  Caliban.  The  truth 
is,  Shakespeare's  characters  are  all  gcfiera  intensely  individ- 
ualized ;  the  results  of  meditation,  of  which  observation  sup- 
plied the  drapery  and  the  colours  necessary  to  combine  them 
with  each  other.  He  had  virtually  surveyed  all  the  great 
component  powers  and  impulses  of  human  nature — had  seen 
that  their  different  combinations  and  subordinations  were  in 
fact  the  individualizers  of  men,  and  showed  how  their  har- 
mony was  produced  by  reciprocal  disproportions  of  excess  or 
deficiency.  The  language  in  which  these  truths  are  express- 
ed was  not  drawn  from  any  set  fashion,  but  from  the  profound- 
est  depths  of  his  moral  being,  and  is  therefore  for  all  ages. 


14  '.IJJE  TEMPEST. 

[Front  SchlegeVs  '■'■Lectures  on  Dramatic  Literature. ''''*'\ 

The  AlidsiuHiner -Nighf s  Dream  and  The  Tempest  may  be 
so  far  compared  together  that  in  both  the  influence  of  a  won- 
derful world  of  spirits  is  interwoven  with  the  turmoil  of  hu- 
man passions  and  with  the  farcical  adventures  of  folly.  The 
Midsummer-Nigh f  s  Dream  is  certainly  an  earlier  production  ; 
but  7he  Tempest,  according  to  all  appearance,  was  written  in 
Shakespeare's  later  days :  hence  most  critics,  on  the  suppo- 
sition that  the  poet  must  have  continued  to  improve  with  in- 
creasing maturity  of  mind,  have  honoured  the  last  piece  with 
a  marked  preference.  I  cannot,  however,  altogether  concur 
with  them  :  the  intrinsic  merits  of  these  two  works  are,  in  my 
opinion,  pretty  nearly  balanced,  and  a  predilection  for  the 
one  or  the  other  can  only  be  governed  by  personal  taste.  In 
profound  and  original  characterization  the  superiority  of  The 
Tempest  is  obvious :  as  a  whole,  we  must  always  admire  the 
masterly  skill  which  the  poet  has  here  displayed  in  the  econ- 
omy of  his  means,  and  the  dexterity  with  which  he  has  dis- 
guised his  preparations — the  scaffoldings  for  the  wonderful 
aerial  structure.  ... 

The  Tempest  has  little  action  or  progressive  movement ;  the 
union  of  Ferdinand  and  Miranda  is  settled  at  their  first  in- 
terview, and  Prospero  merely  throws  apparent  obstacles  in 
their  way ;  the  shipwrecked  band  go  leisurely  about  the  isl- 
and ,  the  attempts  of  Sebastian  and  Antonio  on  the  life  of  the 
King  of  Naples,  and  the  plot  of  Caliban  and  the  drunken 
sailors  against  Prospero,  are  nothing  but  a  feint,  for  we  fore- 
see that  they  will  be  completely  frustrated  by  the  magical 
skill  of  the  latter  ;  nothing  remains,  therefore,  but  the  punish- 
ment of  the  guilty  by  dreadful  sights  which  harrow  up  their 
consciences,  and  then  the  discovery  and  final  reconciliation. 
Yet  this  want  of  movement  is  so  admirably  concealed  by  the 
most  varied  display  of  the  fascinations  of  poetry  and  the  ex- 
*  Black's  translation. 


jNTRODUCTIOX. 


15 


hilaration  of  mirth,  the  details  of  the  execution  are  so  very  at- 
tractive, that  it  requires  no  small  degree  of  attention  to  per- 
ceive that  the  denouement  is,  in  some  degree,  anticipated  in  the 
exposition.  The  history  of  the  loves  of  Ferdinand  and  Mi- 
randa, developed  in  a  few  short  scenes,  is  enchantingly  beauti- 
ful :  an  affecting  union  of  chivalrous  magnanimity  on  the  one 
part,  and  on  the  otlier  of  the  virgin  openness  of  a  heart  which, 
brought  up  far  from  the  world  on  an  uninhabited  island,  has 
never  learned  to  disguise  its  innocent  movements.  The  wis- 
dom of  the  princely  hermit  Prospero  has  a  magical  and  mys- 
terious air ;  the  disagreeable  impression  left  by  the  black 
falsehood  of  the  two  usurpers  is  i-oftened  by  the  honest  gos- 
sipping  of  the  old  and  faithful' Gonzalo  ;  Trinculo  and  Ste- 
phano,  two  good-for-nothing  drunkards,  find  a  worthy  asso- 
ciate in  Caliban  ;  and  Ariel  hovers  sweetly  over  the  whole  as 
the  personified  genius  of  the  wonderful  fable. 

Caliban  has  become  a  by-word  as  the  strange  creation  of 
a  poetical  imagination.  A  mixture  of  gnome  and  savage, 
half  daemon,  half  brute,  in  his  behaviour  we  perceive  at  once 
the  traces  of  his  native  disposition,  and  the  influence  of  Pros- 
pero's  education.  The  latter  could  only  unfold  his  under- 
standing, without,  in  the  slightest  degree,  taming  his  rooted 
malignity:  it  is  as  if  the  use  of  reason  and  human  speech 
were  communicated  to  an  awkward  ape.  In  inclination  Cal- 
iban is  malicious,  cowardly,  false,  and  base  ;  and  yet  he  is  es- 
sentially different  from  the  vulgar  knaves  of  a  civilized  world, 
as  portrayed  occasionally  by  Shakespeare.  He  is  rude,  but 
not,  vulgar  ;  he  never  falls  into  the  prosaic  and  low  familiar- 
ity of  his  drunken  associates,  for  he  is,  in  his  way,  a  poetical 
being ;  he  always  speaks  in  verse.  He  has  picked  up  every 
thing  dissonant  and  thorny  in  language  to  compose  out  of  it 
a  vocabulary  of  his  own  ;  and  of  the  whole  variety  of  nature, 
the  hateful,  repulsive,  and  pettily  deformed  have  alone  been 
impressed  on  his  imagination.  The  magical  world  of  spirits, 
which  the  staff  of  Prospero  has  assembled  on  the  island,  casts 


J 5  tup:  tempest. 

mcrc;!y  a  faint  reflection  into  his  mind,  as  a  ray  of  light  which 
falls  into  a  dark  cave,  incapable  of  communicating  to  it  either 
heat  or  illumination,  serves  merely  to  set  in  motion  the  poi- 
sonous vapours.  The  delineation  of  this  monster  is  through- 
out inconceivably  consistent  and  profound,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing its  hatefulness,  by  no  means  hurtful  to  our  feelings,  as  the 
honour  of  human  nature  is  left  untouched. 

In  the  zephyr-like  Ariel  the  image  of  air  is  not  to  be  mis- 
taken ;  his  name  even  bears  an  allusion  to  it ;  as,  on  the  other 
hand,  Caliban  signifies  the  heavy  element  of  earth.  Yet  they 
are  neither  of  them  simple,  allegorical  personifications,  but 
beings  individually  determined.  In  general  we  find  in  The 
Midsummer -Nighfs  Dream,  in  The  Ihnpest,  in  the  magical 
part  of  Macbeth,  and  wherever  Shakespeare  avails  himself  of 
the  popular  belief  in  the  invisible  presence  of  spirits,  and  the 
possibility  of  coming  in  contact  with  them,  a  profound  view 
of  the  inward  life  of  Nature  and  her  mysterious  springs, 
which,  it  is  true,  can  never  be  altogether  unknown  to  the  gen- 
uine poet,  as  poetry  is  altogether  incompatible  with  mechan- 
ical physics,  but  which  few  have  possessed  in  an  equal  degree 
with  Dante  and  himself. 

\From  J\!rs.  Jameson's  ^'■Characteristics  of  lVo?>ien."] 

We  might  have  deemed  it  impossible  to  go  beyond  Viola, 
Perdita,  and  Ophelia  as  pictures  of  feminine  beauty  ;  to  ex- 
ceed the  one  in  tender  delicacy,  the  other  in  ideal  grace,  and 
the  last  in  simplicity,  if  Shakespeare  had  not  done  this  ;  and 
he  alone  could  have  done  it.  Had  he  never  created  a  Miran- 
da, we  should  never  have  been  made  to  feel  how  completely 
the  purely  natural  and  the  purely  ideal  can  blend  into  each 
other. 

The  character  of  Miranda  resolves  itself  into  the  very  ele- 
ments of  womanhood!  Shensbeautiful,  modest,  and  tender, 
and  she  is  these  only  ;  they  comprise  her  whole  being,  exter- 
nal and  internal.     She  is  so  perfectly  unsophisticated,  so  del- 


INTRODUCTIOX.  1 7 

icately  refined,  that  she  is  all  but  ethereal.  Let  us  imagine 
any  other  woman  placed  beside  Miranda  —  even  one  of 
Shakespeare's  own  loveliest  and  sweetest  creations — there  is 
not  one  of  them  that  could  sustain  the  comparison  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  not  one  that  would  not  appear  somewhat  coarse  or 
artificial  when  brought  into  immediate  contact  with  this  pure 
child  of  nature,  this  "  Eve  of  an  enchanted  Paradise." 

What,  then,  has  Shakespeare  done  ? — "  O  wondrous  skill 
and  sweet  wit  of  the  man  !" — he  has  removed  Miranda  far 
from  all  comparison  with  her  own  sex ;  he  has  placed  her 
between  the  demi-demon  of  earth  and  the  delicate  spirit  of 
air.  The  next  step  is  into  the  ideal  and  supernatural ;  and 
the  only  being  who  approaches  Miranda,  with  whom  she  can 
be  contrasted,  is  Ariel.  Beside  the  subtle  essence  of  this 
ethereal  sprite,  this  creature  of  elemental  light  and  air,  that 
"ran  upon  the  winds,  rode  the  curl'd  clouds,  and  in  the  colours 
of  the  rainbow  lived,"  Miranda  herself  appears  a  palpable  re- 
ality, a  woman,"  breathing  thoughtful  breath,"  a  woman,  walk- 
ing the  earth  in  her  mortal  loveliness,  with  a  heart  as  frail- 
strung,  as  passion-touched,  as  ever  fluttered  in  a  female 
bosom. 

I  have  said  that  Miranda  possesses  merely  the  elementary 
attTTbutes  of  womanhood,  but  each  of  these  stands  in  her  wiih 
a  distinct  and  peculiar  grace.  She  resembles  nothing  upon 
earth ;  but  do  we  therefore  compare  her,  in  our  own  minds, 
with  any  of  those  fabled  beings  with  which  the  fancy  of  an- 
cient poets  peopled  the  forest  depths,  the  fountain  or  the 
ocean? — oread  or  dryad  fleet,  sea-maid,  or  naiad  of  the 
stream.?  We  cannot  think  of  them  together.  Miranda  is 
a  consistent,  natural  human  being.  Our  impression  of  her 
nymph-like  beauty,  her  peerless  grace,  and  purity  of  soul,  has 
a  distinct  and  individual  character.  Not  only  is  she  exqui- 
sitely lovely,  being  what  she  is,  but  we  are  made  to  feel  that 
she  could  not  possibly  be  otherwise  than  as  she  is  portrayed. 
She  has  never  beheld  one  of  her  own  sex  ;  she  has  never 

\\ 


1 8  THE    TEMPEST. 

caught  from  society  one  imitated  or  artificial  grace.  The  im- 
pulses which  have  come  to  her,  in  her  enchanted  solitude,  are 
of  heaven  and  nature,  not  of  the  world  and  its  vanities.  She 
has  sprung  up  into  beauty  beneath  the  eye  oT  her  father,  the 
princely  magician  ;  her  companions  have  been  the  rocks  and 
woods,  the  many-shaped,  many-tinted  clouds,  and  the  silent 
stars ;  her  playmates  the  ocean  billows,  that  stooped  their 
foamy  crests,  and  ran  rippling  to  kiss  her  feet.  Ariel  ana  his 
attendant  sprites  hovered  over  her  head,  ministered  duteous 
to  her  every  wish,  and  presented  before  her  pageants  of 
beauty  and  grandeur.  .The  very  air,  made  vocal  by  her  fa- 
ther's art,  floated  in  music  around  her.  If  we  can  presup 
pose  such  a  situation  with  all  its  circumstances,  do  we  not 
behold  in  the  character  of  Miranda  not  only  the  credible,  but 
the  natural,  the  necessary  results  of  such  a  situation  ?  She 
retains  her  woman's  heart,  for  that  is  unalterable  and  inalien- 
able, as  a  part  of  her  being ;  but  her  deportment,  her  looks, 
her  language,  her  thoughts— all  these,  from  the  supernatural 
and  poetical  circumstances  around  her,  assume  a  cast  of  the 
pure  ideal ;  and  to  us,  who  are  in  the  secret  of  her  human 
and  pitying  nature,  nothing  can  be  more  charming  and  con- 
sistent than  the  effect  which  she  produces  upon  others,  who, 
never  having  beheld  any  thing  resembling  her,  approach  her 
as  "  a  wonder,"  as  something  celestial  : 

Most  sure,  the  goddess  on  whom  these  airs  attend  ! 

And  again : 

What  is  this  maid  ? 
Is  she  the  goddess  who  hath  severed  us, 
And  brought  us  thus  together  ? 

Contrasted  with  the  impression  of  her  refined  and  dignified 
beauty,  and  its  effect  on  all  beholdeTs7islvliranda's  own  soft 
simplicity,  her  virgin  innocence,  her  total  ignorance  of  the 
conventional  forms  and  language  of  society.  It  is  most  nat- 
ural that  in  a  being  thus  constituted,  the  first  tears  should 
spring  from  compassion, "  suffering  with  those  that  she  saw 


IXTKODUCTIOX. 


19 


suffer ;"  and  that  her  first  sigh  should  be  ofifered  to  a  love  at 
once  fearless  and  submissive,  delicate  and  fond.  She  has  no 
taught  scruples  of  honour  like  Juliet ;  no  coy  concealments 
like  Viola  ;  no  assumed  dignity  standing  in  its  own  defence. 
Her  bashfulness  is  less  a  quality  tlian  an  instinct ;  it  is  like 
the  self-folding  of  a  flower,  spontaneous  and  unconscious.  I 
suppose  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind  in  poetry  equal  to  the 
scene  between  Ferdinand  and  Miranda.  In  Ferdinand,  who 
is  a  noble  creature,  we  have  all  the  chivalrous  magnanimity 
wuth  which  man,  in  a  high  state  of  civilization,  disguises  his 
real  superiority,  and  does  humble,  homage  to  the  being  of 
w'hose  destiny  he  disposes ;  while  Miranda,  the  mere  child 
of  nature,  is  struck  with  wonder  at  her  own  new  emotions. 
Only  conscious  of  her  own  weakness  as  a  woman,  and  igno- 
rant of  those  usages  of  society  which  teach  us  to  dissemble 
the  real  passion,  and  assume  (and  sometimes  abuse)  an  un- 
real and  transient  power,  she  is  equally  ready  to  place  her 
life,  her  love,  her  service  beneath  his  feet.  .  .  . 

As  Miranda,  being  what  she  is,  could  only  have  had  a  Fer- 
dinand" for  a  lover,  and  an  Ariel  for  her  attendant,  so  she 
could  have  had  with  propriety  no  other  father  than  the  ma- 
jestic and  gifted  being  who  fondly  claims  her  as  "a  thread 
of  his  own  life — nay,  that  for  which  he  lives."  Prospero,  with 
his  magical  powers,  his  superhuman  wisdom,  his  moral  worth 
and  grandeur,  and  his  kingly  dignity,  is  one  of  the  most  sub- 
lime visions  that  ever  swept  with  ample  robes,  pale  brow,  and 
sceptred  hand,  before  the  eye  of  fancy.  He  controls  the  in- 
visible world,  and  works  through  the  agency  of  spirits ;  not 
by  any  evil  and  forbidden  compact,  but  solely  by  superior 
might  of  intellect — by  potent  spells  gathered  from  the  lore  of 
ages,  and  abjured  when  he  mingles  again  as  a  man  with  his 
fellow-men.  He  is  as  distinct  a  being  from  the  necromancers 
and  astrologers  celebrated  in  Shakespeare's  age  as  can  well 
be  imagined:*  and  all  the  wizards  of  poetry  and  fiction,  even 

•  Such  as  Cornelius  Agrippa,  Michael  Scott,  Dr.  Dec.  The  last  was 
the  contemporary  of  Shakespeare. 


20  THE    7EMPEST. 

Faust  and  St.  Leon,  sink  into   commonplaces   before   the 
princely,  the  philosophic,  the  benevolent  Prospero. 

[From  Hazlilt^s  "  Characters  of  Shakespear^  P/iiys."*] 

The  I'evipcst  is  one  of  the  most  original  and  perfect  of 
Shakespear's  productions,  and  he  has  shown  in  it  all  the 
variety  of  his  powers.  It  is  full  of  grace  and  grandeujL.  The 
human  and  imaginary  characters,  the  dramatic  and  the  gro- 
tesque, are  blended  together  with  the  greatest  art,  and  without 
any  appearance  of  it.  Though  he  has  here  given  "  to  airy 
nothing  a  local  habitation  and  a  name,"  yet  that  part  which 
is  only  the  fantastic  creation  of  his  mind  has  the  same  palpa- 
ble texture,  and  coheres  "  semblably"  with  the  rest.  As  the 
preternatural  part  has  the  air  of  reality,  and  almost  haunts 
the  imagination  with  a  sense  of  truth,  the  real  characters  and 
events  partake  of  the  wildness  of  a  dream.  The  stately  ma- 
gician Prospero,  driven  from  his  dukedom,  but  around  whom 
(so  potent  is  his  art)  airy  spirits  throng  numberless  to  do  his 
bidding;  his  daughter  Miranda  ("worthy  of  that  name"),  to 
whom  all  the  power  of  his  art  points,  and  who  seems  the  god- 
dess of  the  isle  ;  the  princely  Ferdinand,  cast  by  fate  upon 
the  haven  of  his  happiness  in  this  idol  of  his  love  ;  the  deli- 
cate Ariel ;  the  savage  Caliban,  half  brute,  half  demon  ;  the 
drunken  ship's  crew — are  all  connected  parts  of  the  story, 
and  can  hardly  be  spared  from  the  place  they  fill.  Even  the 
local  scenery  is  of  a  piece  and  character  with  the  subject. 
Prospero's  enchanted  island  seems  to  have  risen  up  out  of 
the  sea  ;  the  airy  music,  the  tempest-tossed  vessel,  the  turbu- 
lent waves,  all  have  the  effect  of  the  landscape  background 
of  some  fine  picture.  Shakespear's  pencil  is  (to  use  an  al- 
lusion of  his  own)  "like  the  dyer's  hand,  subdued  to  what  it 
works  in."  Everything  in  him,  though  it  partakes  of"  the  lib- 
erty of  wit,"  is  also  subjected  to  "  the  law"  of  the  understand- 
ing. For  instance,  even  the  drunken  sailors,  who  are  made 
*  Edited  by  Wm.  Carew  Ilazlitt  (London,  1869),  p.  82  foil. 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

reeling  ripe,  share,  in  the  disorder  of  their  minds  and  bodies, 
in  the  tumult  of  the  elements,  and  seem  on  shore  to  be  as 
much  at  the  mercy  of  chance  as  they  were  before  at  the  mer- 
cy of  the  wind  and  waves.  These  fellows  with  their  sea-wit 
are  the  least  to  our  taste  of  any  part  of  the  play  ;  but  they 
are  as  like  drunken  sailors  as  they  can  be,  and  are  an  indi- 
rect foil  to  Caliban,  whose  figure  acquires  a  classical  dignity 
in  the  comparison. 

The  character  of  Caliban  is  generally  thought  (and  justly 
so)  to  be  one  of  the  author's  masterpieces.  It  is  not  indeed 
pleasant  to  see  this  character  on  the  stage,  any  more  than  it 
is  to  see  the  god  Pan  personated  there.  But  in  itself  it  is  one 
of  the  wildest  and  most  abstracted  of  all  Shakespear's  char- 
acters, whose  deformity,  whether  of  body  or  mind,  is  redeemed 
by  the  power  and  truth  of  the  imagination  displayed  in  it.  It 
is  the  essence  of  grossness,  but  there  is  not  a  particle  of  vul- 
garity in  it.  Shakespear  has  described  the  brutal  mind  of 
Caliban  in  contact  with  the  pure  and  original  forms  of  nature  ; 
the  character  grows  out  of  the  soil  where  it  is  rooted,  un- 
controlled, uncouth,  and  wild,  uncramped  by  any  of  the  mean- 
nesses of  custom.  It  is  "of  the  earth,  earthy."  It  seems  al- 
most to  have  been  dug  out  of  the  ground,  with  a  soul  instinct- 
ively superadded  to  it  answering  to  its  wants  and  origin. 
Vulgarity  is  not  natural  coarseness,  but  conventional  coarse- 
ness, learned  from  others,  contrary  to,  or  without  an  entire  con- 
formity of  natural  power  and  disposition  ;  as  fashion  is  the 
commonplace  affectation  of  what  is  elegant  and  refined  with- 
out, any  feeling  of  the  essence  of  it.  Schlegel,  the  admirable 
German  critic  of  Shakespear,  observes  that  Caliban  is  a  poet- 
ical character,  and  "  always  speaks  in  blank  verse."  .   .  . 

In  conducting  Stephano  and  Trinculo  to  Prospero's  cell, 
Caliban  shows  the  superiority  of  natural  capacity  over  great- 
er knowedge  and  greater  folly ;  and  in  a  former  scene,  when 
Ariel  frightens  them  with  his  music,  Caliban,  to  encourage 
them,  accounts  for  it  in  the  eloquent  poetry  of  the  senses : 


22  TJJE   TEMPEST. 

"Be  not  afeard  ;  the  isle  is  full  of  noises, 
Sounds  and  sweet  airs,  that  give  delight  and  hurt  not. 
Sometimes  a  thousand  twangling  instruments 
Will  hum  about  mine  ears  ;  and  sometimes  voices. 
That,  if  I  then  had  wak'd  after  long  sleep, 
Will  make  me  sleep  again  :  and  then,  in  dreaming, 
The  clouds,  methought,  would  open,  and  show  riches 
Ready  to  drop  upon  me  ;  that  when  I  wak'd 
I  cried  to  dream  again." 

This  is  not  more  beautiful  than  it  is  true.  The  poet  here 
shows  us  the  savage  with  the  simplicity  of  a  child.  Shake- 
speare had  to  paint  th^e  human  animal  rude  and  without 
choice  in  its  pleasures,  but  not  without  the  sense  of  pleasure 
or  some  germ  of  the  affections.  Master  Barnardine,'  in  Meas- 
ure for  Measure,  the  savage  of  civilized  life,  is  an  admirable 
philosophical  counterpart  to  Caliban. 

Sh'akespear  has,  as  it  were  by  design,  drawn  off  from  Cal- 
iban the  elements  of  whatever  is  ethereal  and  refined,  to  com- 
pound them  in  the  unearthly  mould  of  Ariel  Nothing  was 
ever  more  finely  conceived  than  this  contiaSt  between  the 
material  and  the  spiritual,  the  gross  and  delicate.  Ariel  is 
imaginary  power,  the  swiftness  of  thought  personified.  When 
told  to  make  good  speed  by  Prospero,  he  says,  "  I  drink  the 
air  before  me."  This  is  something  like  Puck's  boast  on  a 
similar  occasion,  "  I'll  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  earth  in 
forty  minutes."  But  Ariel  differs  from  Puck  in  having  a  fel- 
low-feeling in  the  interests  of  those  he  is  employed  about. 
How  exquisite  is  the  following  dialogue  between  him  and 
Prospero  ! 

"  Ariel.  Your  charm  so  strongly  works  them, 

That  if  you  now  beheld  them,  your  affections 
Would  become  tender. 

Prospero.  Dost  thou  think  so,  spirit .'' 

Ariel.  Mine  would,  sir,  v/ere  I  human. 

Prospero.  And  mine  shall 

Hast  thou,  which  art  but  air,  a  touch,  a  feeling 
Of  their  afflictions,  and  shall  not  myself, 


TxNTRODUCTION. 

One  of  their  kind,  that  relish  all  as  sharply 
Passion  as  they,  be  kindlier  moved  than  thou  art? 


23 


It  has  been  observed  that  there  is  a  pecuiiar  charm  in 
the  songs  introduced  in  Shakespear,  ivhich,  without  conveying 
any  distinct  images,  seem  to  recall  all  the  feelings  connected 
with  them,  like  snatches  of  half-forgotten  music  heard  indis- 
tinctly and  at  intervals.  There  is  this  effect  produced  by 
Ariel's  songs,  which  (as  we  are  told)  seem  to  sound  in  the 
air,  and  as  if  the  person  playing  them  were  invisible. 

[From  Franz  Horn's  ^^Shakespeare's  Schaiispiele  Eriautert^*^ 

In  Prospero  we  have  a  delineation  of  peculiar  profundity. 
He  was  once  not  altogether  a  just  prince,  not  thoroughly  a 
just  man  ;  but  he  had  the  disposition  to  be  both.  His  soul 
thirsted  after  knowledge  ;  his  mind,  sincere  in  itself,  after 
love  ;  and  his  fancy,  after  the  secrets  of  nature  ;  but  he  for- 
got, what  a  prince  should  least  of  all  forget,  that,  upon  this 
moving  earth,  superior  acquirements,  in  order  to  stand  firmly, 
must  be  exercised  carefully:  that  the  world  is  full  cf  enemies 
who  can  only  be  subdued  by  a  watchful  power  and  prudence, 
and  that  in  certain  situations  the  armour  ought  never  to  be 
put  off  Thus  it  became  easy  for  his  nearest  relation,  his 
brother,  with  the  help  of  a  powerful  neighbouring  king  who 
could  not  resist  the  offered  but  unjustifiable  advantage,  to  de- 
pose hmi  from  his  dukedom.  But  as  the  pure  morals  of  the 
prince,  although  they  were  perhaps  but  lazily  exercised  in 
behalf  of  his  subjects,  had  nevertheless  gained  him  their  love, 
and  the  usurper  did  not  dare  to  make  an  attack  on  the  lives 
of  the  fallen,  Prospero  saved  himself,  his  daughter,  and  a  part 
of  his  magical  books,  upon  a  desert  island.  Here  he  becomes, 
what,  in  its  highest  sense,  he  had  not  yet  been,  a  fiithcr  and 
prince.  His  knowledge  extends.  Nature  listens  to  him,  per- 
haps because  he  learned  to  know  and  love  her  more  inward- 
ly. Zephyr-like  spirits,  full  of  a  tender  frolicsome  humour, 
♦  Knight's  translation,  with  a  few  verba]  changes. 


24 


THE  TEMPEST. 


ami  rude  earth-born  gnomes,  are  compelled  to  serve  him. 
'I'he  whole  island  is  full  of  wonders,  but  only  such  as  the  fan- 
cy willingly  receives,  of  sounds  and  songs,  of  merry  helpers 
and  comical  tormentors  ;  and  Prospero  shows  his  great  hu- 
man wisdom  particularly  in  the  manner  with  which  he,  as  the 
spiritual  centre,  knows  how  to  conduct  his  intercourse  with 
friends  and  foes.  .  .  . 

In  Caliban  there  is  a  curious  mixture  of  devil,  man,  and 
beast.  He  desires  evil,  not  for  the  sake  of  evil  or  from  mere 
wickedness,  but  because  it  is  piquant,  and  because  he  feels 
himself  oppressed.  He  is  convinced  that  gross  injustice  has 
been  done  him,  and  thus  he  does  not  rightly  feel  that  what  he 
desires  may  be  wicked.  He  knows  perfectly  well  fiow  pow- 
erful Prospero  is,  whose  art  may  perhaps  even  subdue  his 
maternal  god  Setebos,  and  that  he  himself  is  unfortunately 
nothing  but  a  slave.  Nevertheless,  he  cannot  cease  to  curse, 
and  certainly  with  the  gusto  of  a  virtuoso  in  this  more  than 
liberal  art.  Whatever  he  can  find  most  base  and  disgusting 
he  surrounds  almost  artistically  with  the  most  inharmonious 
murmuring  and  hissing  words,  and  then  wishes  them  to  fall 
upon  Prospero  and  his  lovely  daughter.  He  knows  very  well 
that  all  this  will  help  him  nothing,  but  that  at  night  he  will 
have  "  cramps,"  and  "  side-stitches,"  and  be  "  pinched  by  ur- 
chins," but  still  he  continues  to  pour  out  new  curses.  •  He 
has  acquired  one  fixed  idea — that  the  island  belonged  to  his 
mother,  and,  consequently,  now  to  himself,  the  crown  prince. 
The  greatest  horrors  are  pleasant  to  him,  for  he  feels  them 
only  as  jests  which  break  the  monotony  of  his  slavery.  He 
laments  that  he  had  been  prevented  from  completing  a  fright- 
ful sin,  "  Would  it  had  been  done,"  etc. ;  and  the  thought  of 
a  murder  gives  him  a  real  enjoyment,  perhaps  chiefly  on  ac- 
count of  the  noise  and  confusion  that  it  would  produce. 

Recognizing  all  this,  yet  our  feelings  towards  him  never 
rise  to  a  thorough  hatred.  We  find  him  only  laughably  hor- 
rible, and  as  a  marvellous,  though  at  bottom  a  feeble  monster, 


INTROD  UC  TIOX. 


25 


highly  interesting,  for  we  foresee  from  the  first  that  none  of 
his  threats  will  be  fulfilled.  Caliban  could  scarcely  at  any 
time  have  been  made  out  more  in  detail,  but  we  are  well  en- 
abled to  seize  upon  the  idea  of  his  inner  physiognomy  from 
the  naked  sketch  of  his  external  form.  He  is,  with  all  his 
foolish  rage  and  wickedness,  not  entirely  vulgar  ;  and  though 
he  allows  himself  to  be  imposed  upon,  even  by  his  miserable 
comrades  (perhaps  only  because  they  are  men,  and,  if  ugly, 
yet  handsomer  than  himself),  he  everywhere  shows  more  pru- 
dence, which  is  only  checked  because  he  considers  himself 
more  powerful  than  he  really  is.  Indeed,  he  stands  far  high- 
er than  Trinculo  and  Stephano. 

Opposed  to  him  stands  Ariel,  by  no  means  an  ethereal, 
featureless  angel,  but  as  a  real  airy  and  frolicsome  spirit, 
agreeable  and  open,  but  also  capricious,  roguish,  and,  with  his 
other  qualities,  somewhat  mischievous.  He  is  thankful  to 
Prospero  for  his  release  from  the  most  confined  of  all  con- 
fined situations,  but  his  gratitude  is  not  a  natural  virtue  (we 
might  almost  add,  not  an  airy  virtue) ;  therefore  he  must  (like 
man)  be  sometimes  reminded  of  his  debt,  and  held  in  check. 
Only  the  promise  of  his  freedom  in  two  days  restores  him 
again  to  his  amiability,  and  he  then  finds  pleasure  in  execu- 
ting the  plans  of  his  master  with  a  delightful  activity. 

We  noticed  in  passing  "the  featureless  angel,"  and  it  re- 
quires no  further  indication  where  to  find  such  beings  ;  for  no 
one  will  deny  that  these  immortal  winged  children  (so  charm- 
ing in  many  old  German  pictures),  with  their  somewhat  dull 
immortal  harps,  and,  if  possible,  their  still  more  dull  and  im- 
mortal anthems,  cause  a  not  less  immortal  tcdiousness  in  the 
works  of  many  poets.  Shakespeare  did  not  fall  into  this  er- 
ror, and  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  attractive  to  observe  the 
various  and  safe  modes  in  which  he  manages  the  marvellous. 
In  the  storm  he  achieves  his  object  by  the  simplest  means, 
while,  as  has  been  already  indicated,  he  represents  Nature 
herself,  and  certainly  justly,  as  the  greatest  miracle.     When 


26  THE  TEMPEST. 

he  has  once  in  his  own  gentle  way  led  us  to  believe  that 
Prospero,  through  his  high  art,  is  able  to  overrule  Nature — 
and  how  willingly  do  we  believe  in  these  higher  powers  of 
man  I — how  completely  natural,  and,  to  a  certain  degree,  what 
merely  pleasant  trifles,  are  all  the  wonders  which  we  see  play- 
ing around  us  !  These  higher  powers,  also,  are  not  confined 
to  Prospero  alone  ;  Ferdinand  and  Miranda  have,  without 
any  enchanted  wand  or  any  prolix  instruction,  full  superiority 
over  the  wonders  of  nature,  and  they  allow  them  to  pass 
around  them  merely  as  a  delightful  drama ;  for  the  highest 
wonder  is  in  their  own  .breasts — love,  the  pure  human,  and 
even  on  that  account  holy,  love. 

Even  the  pure  mind  and  the  firm  heart,  as  they  are  shown 
in  old  Gonzalo,  are  armed  with  an  almost  similar  power. 
With  our  poet,  a  truly  moral  man  is  always  amiable,  powerful, 
agreeable,  and  quietly  wards  off  the  snares  laid  for  him.  This 
old  Gonzalo  is  so  entirely  occupied  with  his  duty,  in  which 
alone  he  finds  his  pleasure,  that  he  scarcely  notices  the  gnat- 
stings  of  wit  with  which  his  opponents  persecute  him  ;  or,  if 
he  observes,  easily  and  firmly  repels  them.  What  wit  indeed 
has  he  to  fear,  who,  in  a  sinking  ship,  has  power  remaining  to 
sustain  himself  and  others  with  genuine  humour?  Shakes- 
peare seems  scarcely  to  recognize  a  powerless  virtue,  and  he 
depicts  it  only  in  cases  of  need  ;  so  everything  closes  satis- 
factorily. The  pure  poetry  of  nature  and  genius  inspires  us  ; 
and  when  we  hear  Prospero  recite  his  far  too  modest  epi- 
logue, after  laying  down  his  enchanted  wand,  we  have  no  wish 
to  turn  our  minds  to  any  frivolous  thoughts,  for  the  magic  we 
have  experienced  was  too  charming  and  too  mighty  not  to  be 
enduring. 

\From  Verplanck^s  Introduction  to  the  PIay!\ 
The  Tempest  is  one  of  those  works  for  which  no  other  pro- 
duction of  the  author's  prolific  fancy  could  have  prepared  his 
readers.     It  is  wholly  of  a  different  cast  of  temper,  and  mood 


INTRODUCTION. 


27 


of  disposition,  from  those  so  conspicuous  in  his  giyer  come- 
dies ;  while  even  the  ethical  dignity  and  poetic  splendour  of 
The  Alerchant  of  Venice  could  not  well  lead  the  critic  to  antici- 
pate the  solemn  grandeur,  the  unrivalled  harmony  and  grace, 
the  bold  originality,  and  the  grave  beauty  of  The  Tempest.  . . . 

There  are  several  respects  in  which  the  play  thus  stands 
alone  as  distinguishable  in  character  from  any  other  of  its 
author's  varied  creations.  Without  being  his  work  of  great- 
est power,  not  equalling  several  other  of  the  dramas  in  depth 
of  passion,  or  in  the  exhibition  of  the  working  of  the  affec- 
tions ;  surpassed  by  others  in  brilliancy  of  poetic  fancy  or 
exquisite  delicacies  of  expression,  it  is  nevertheless  among 
the  most  perfect  (perhaps,  in  fact,  the  most  perfect)  of  all,  as 
a  work  of  art,  of  the  most  unbroken  unity  of  effect  and  sus- 
tained majesty  of  intellect.  It  is,  too — if  we  can  speak  of 
degrees  of  originality  in  the  productions  of  this  most  creative 
of  all  poets — the  most  purely  original  of  his  conceptions,  de- 
riving nothing  of  any  consequence  from  any  other  source  for 
the  plot,  and  without  any  prototype  in  literature  of  the  more 
ih.portant  personages,  or  any  model  for  the  thoughts  and  lan- 
guage, beyond  the  materials  presented  by  actual  and  living 
human  nature,  to  be  raised  and  idealized  into  the  "wild  and 
wondrous"  forms  of  Ariel  and  Caliban,  of  the  majestic  Pros- 
pero,  and,  above  all,  of  his  peerless  daughter.  Miranda  is  a 
character  blending  the  truth  of  nature  with  the  most  exquisite 
refinement  of  poetic  fancy,  unrivalled  even  in  Shakespeare's 
own  long  and  beautiful  series  of  portraitures  of  feminine  ex- 
cellence, and  paralleled  only  by  the  Eve  of  Milton,  who,  I 
cannot  but  think,  was  indirectly  indebted  for  some  of  her  most 
fascinating  attributes  to  the  solitary  daughter  of  Prospero. 

Caliban,  a  being  without  example  or  parallel  in  poetic  in- 
vention, degraded  in  mind,  as  well  as  in  moral  affections,  be- 
low the  level  of  humanity,  and  yet  essentially  and  purely  po- 
etical in  all  his  conceptions  and  language,  is  a  creation  to 
whose  originality  and  poetic  truth  every  critic,  from  Drj'den 


28  THE  TEMPEST. 

downward,  has  paid  homage.  Nor  is  it  a  less  striking  pecul- 
iarity that  the  only  bufifoon  characters  and  dialogue  in  the 
drama  are  those  of  the  sailors,  who  seem  to  be  introduced 
for  the  single  purpose  of  contrasting  the  grossness  and  lovv- 
ness  of  civilized  vice  with  the  nobler  forms  of  savage  and  un- 
tutored depravity. 

It  is  partly  on  account  of  this  perfect  novelty  of  invention, 
and  probably  still  more  from  the  fairy  and  magical  machin- 
ery of  the  plot,  that  the  later  critics  have  designated  The 
Tempest  as  specially  belonging  to  the  Romantic  Drama.  Yet 
to  me  it  appears,  not  or^ly  in  its  structure,  but  in  its  taste  and 
feeling,  to  bear  a  more  classical  character,  and  to  be  more 
assimilated  to  the  higher  Grecian  drama,  in  its  spirit,  than 
any  other  of  its  author's  works,  or  indeed  any  other  poem  of 
his  age.  The  rules  of  the  Greek  stage,  as  to  the  unities  of 
time'  and  place,  are  fully  complied  with.  This  cannot  well 
be  the  result  of  accident,  for  in  an  age  of  classical  translation, 
and  learned  (even  pedantic)  imitation,  it  needed  no  classical 
learning  to  make  the  unities  known  to  any  dramatic  author  ; 
and  as  Shakespeare  had,  in  his  other  plays,  totally  rejected 
them,  he  would  seem  here  to  have  expressly  designed  to  con- 
form his  plot  to  their  laws.  But  there  also  appears  to  me  to 
be  something  in  the  poetic  character  and  tone  of  the  drama, 
approaching  to  the  spirit  and  manner  of  the  Greek  dramatic 
poetry,  which  can  certainly  not  be  ascribed  to  intentional  im- 
itation, any  more  than  to  the  unconscious  resemblance  often 
produced  by  habitual  familiarity  with  favourite  models.  It 
has  nothing  of  the  air  of  learned  and  elaborate  imitation 
which,  in  the  works  of  Tasso,  and  Milton,  and  Gray,  make  the 
scholar  everywhere  as  perceptible  as  the  poet.  But  it  is  the 
resemblance  of  solemn  thought,  of  calm  dignity,  of  moral  wis- 
dom, of  the  dramatic  dialogue  in  its  most  majestic  form,  pass- 
ing now  into  the  lyrical  and  now  into  the  didactic  or  ethical. 
This  resemblance  of  taste  and  feeling  is  rendered  more  strik- 
ing by  a  similar  bold  and  free  invention  and  combination  of 


IXTRODUCTIO.Y. 


29 


poetic  diction,  making  the  English  language  as  flexible  as  the 
Greek  to  every  shade  of  thought.  In  all  these  respects,  the 
resemblance  to  antiquity  goes  just  far  enough  to  show  that 
its  result  is  not  artificial  or  intentional,  but  the  result  of  the 
same  mental  causes  operating  upon  the  author's  poetic  tem- 
perament and  taste  at  the  time,  which  predominated  in  form- 
ing the  "  lofty  grave  tragedians"  of  ancient  Athens. 


r 


ARIEL    AS    A    SEA-NYMPH. 


,;'^sEE^fL 


THE     TEMPEST, 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 


Alonso,  King  of  Naples. 
Sebastian,  his  brother. 
Prospero,  the  right  Duke  of  Milan. 
Antonio,  his  brother,  the  usurping  Duke 

of  Milan. 
Ferdinand,  son  to  the  King  of  Naples. 
GoNZALO,  an  honest  old  Counsellor. 
Adrian,        \    L^^ds 
Francisco,    ) 

Caliban,  a  savage  and  deformed  Slave. 
Trinculo,  a  Jester. 
Stephano,  a  drunken  Butler. 


Master  of  a  Ship,  Boatswain,  Mariners. 

Miranda,  daughter  to  Prospero. 

Ariel,  an  airy  Spirit. 

Ifis,  -^ 

Ceres, 

Juno,  \    presented  by  Spirits. 

Nymphs, 

Reapers, 

Other  Spirits  attending  on  Prospero. 
Scene  :   A  ship  at  sea :   an  uninhabited 
island. 


ACT   I. 

Scene  I.     On  a  Ship  at  Sea  :  a  tempestuous  noise  of  thunder 
and  lightning  heard. 
Enter  a  Ship-master  and  ;i  Boatswain. 
Master.   Boatswain  ! 

Boatswain.  Here,  master  ;  what  cheer? 
Master.  Good,  speak  to  the  mariners  :  fiUl  to  't,  yarely,  or 
we  run  ourselves  aground  ;  bestir,  bestir  !  [Exit. 

C 


34  THE   rEMPEST. 

Enter  Mariners. 

Boatswain.  Heigh,  my  hearts !  cheerly,  cheerly,  my  hearts ! 

yare,  yare  !    Take  in  the  topsail.    Tend  to  the  master's  vvhis-      ,^ 

tie. — Blow  till  thou  burst  thy  wind,  if  room  enough  !  -,-  '     Jf 

^'^'"^'      -  ^.  y^    IfS^ 

Enter  Alonso,  Sebastian,  Antonio,  Ferdinand,  Gonzalo, 

and  others. 

Alonso.  Good  boatswain,  have  care.  Where  's  the  master? 
Play  the  men. 

Boatswain.  I  pray  now,  keep  below.  lo 

Antonio.  Where  is  the  master,  boatswain  ? 

Boatswain.  Do  you  not  hear  him  ?  You  mar  our  labour. 
Keep  your  cabins ;  you  do  assist  the  storm. 

Gonzalo.  Nay,  good,  be  patient. 

Boatswain.  When  the  sea  is.  Hence!  What  cares  these 
roarers  for  the  name  of  king?  To  cabin!  Silence!  trouble 
us  not.  17 

Gonzalo.  Good,  yet  remember  whom  thou  hast  aboard. 

Boatswain.  None  that  I  love  more  than  myself.  You  are 
a  counsellor;  if  you  can  command  these  elements  to  silence, 
and  work  the  peace  of  the  present,  we  will  not  hand,  a  rope 
more.  Use  your  authority;  if  you  cannot,  give  thanks  you 
have  lived  so  long,  and  make  yourself  ready  in  your  cabin 
for  the  mischance  of  the  hour,  if  it  so  hap. — Cheerly,  good 
hearts ! — Out  of  our  way,  I  say.  \^Exit. 

Gonzalo.  I  have  great  comfort  from  this  fellow:  methinks 
he  hath  no  drowning  mark  upon  him;  his  complexion  is  per- 
fect gallows.  Stand  fast,  good  Fate,  to  his  hanging  !  Make 
the  rope  of  his  destiny  our  cable,  for  our  own  doth  little  ad- 
vantage! If  he  be  not  born  to  be  hanged,  our  case  is  mis- 
erable. [Exeunt. 

Enter  Boatswain. 
Boatswain.  Down  with  the  topmast !  yare !  lower,  lower  I 


ACT  I.    SCENE   L 


35 


Bring  her  to  try  wi'  the  main-course.  \^A  cry  within.']  A  plague 
upon  this  howling !  they  are  louder  than  the  weather  or  our 

office. 35 

Enter  Sebastian,  Antonio,  and  Gonzalo. 
Yet  again  !  what  do  you  here .-'    Shall  we  give  o'er,  and  drown  ? 
Have  you  a  mind  to  sink  ? 

Sebastian.  A  plague  o'  your  throat,  you  bawling,  blasphe- 
mous, incharitable  dog! 

Boatswain.  Work  you,  then.  40 

Antonio.   Hang,  cur !  hang,  you  whoreson,  insolent  noise- 
maker!     We  are  less  afraid  to  be  drowned  than  thou  art. 

Gonzalo.  I  '11  warrant  him  for  drowning,  though  the  ship 
were  no  stronger  than  a  nutshell. 

Boatswain.  Lay  her  a-hold,  a-hold  !     Set  her  two  courses. 
Ofif  to  sea  again  ;  lay  her  off. 

Enter  Mariners  wet. 

Afariners.  All  lost!  to  prayers,  to  prayers!  all  lost! 

Boatswain.  What !  must  our  mouths  be  cold  .^ 

Gonzalo.  The  king  and  prince  at  prayers!     Let  's  assist 
them, 
For  our  case  is  as  theirs. 

Sebastian.  I  'm  out  of  patience.  5° 

Antonio.  We  are  merely  cheated  of  our  lives  by  drunk- 
ards.— 
This  wide-chapp'd  rascal, — would  thou  mightst  lie  drowning 
The  washing  of  ten  tides  ! 

Gonzalo.  He  '11  be  hang'd  yet, 

Though  every  drop  of  water  swear  against  it, 
And  gape  at  wid'st  to  glut  him. 

\_A  confused  noise  within.  '  Mercy  on  us  !' — 

*We  split,  we  split!' — 'Farewell,  my  wife  and  children!' — 
'  Farewell,  brother !' — '  We  split,  we  split,  we  split !' — ]  s? 

Antonio.  Let 's  all  sink  with  the  king.  \^Exit. 


36  THE    TEMPEST. 

Sebastian.   Let 's  take  leave  of  him.  \Exit. 

Gonzalo.  Now  would  I  give  a  thousand  furlongs  of  sea  for 
an  acre  of  barren  ground  ;  long  heath,  brown  furze,  any  thing. 
The  wills  above  be  done!  but  I  would  fain  die  a  dry  death. 

\Exit. 

Scene  II.      The  Island.     Before  Prosperous  Cell. 
Enter  Prospero  and  Miranda. 

Miranda.  If  by  your  art,  my  dearest  father,  you  have 
Put  the  wild  waters  in  this  roar,  allay  them. 
The  sky,  it  seems,  would  pour  down  stinking  pitch, 
But  that  the  sea,  mounting  to  the  welkin's  cheek, 
Dashes  the  fire  out.     O,  I  have  sufifer'd 
With  those  that  I  saw  suffer!     A  brave  vessel, 
Who  had,  no  doubt,  some  noble  creature  in  her, 
Dash'd  all  to  pieces.     O,  the  cry  did  knock 
Against  my  very  heart !     Poor  souls,  they  perish'd  ! 
Had  I  been  any  god  of  power,  I  would  lo 

Have  sunk  the  sea  within  the  earth,  or  ere 
It  should  the  good  ship  so  have  swallow'd  and 
The  fraughting  souls  within  her. 

Prospero.  Be  collected ;     ■ 

No  more  amazement.     Tell  your  piteous  heart 
There  's  no  harm  done. 

Miranda.  O,  woe  the  day! 

Prospero.  No  harm. 

I  have  done  nothing  but  in  care  of  thee, 
Of  thee,  my  dear  one,  thee,  my  daughter,  who 
Art  ignorant  of  what  thou  art,  nought  knowing 
Of  whence  I  am,  nor  that  I  am  more  better 
Than  Prospero,  master  of  a  full  poor  cell,  20 

And  thy  no  greater  father. 

Miranda.  More  to  know 

Did  never  meddle  with  my  thoughts. 

Prospero.  'T  is  time 


ACr  /.    SCENE  II. 


37 


I  should  inform  thee  farther.     I, end  thy  hand, 
And  pluck  my  magic  garment  from  me. — So: 

\Lays  down  his  mantle. 
Lie  there,  my  art. — Wipe  thou  thine  eyes  ;  have  comfort. 
The  direful  spectacle  of  the  wrack,  which  touch'd 
The  very  virtue  of  compassion  in  thee, 
I  have  with  such  provision  in  mine  art 
So  safely  order'd,  that  there  is  no  soul — 
No,  not  so  much  perdition  as  an  hair  30 

Betid  to  any  creature  in  the  vessel 

Which  thou  heard'st  cry,  which  thou  saw'st  sink.     Sit  down ; 
For  thou  must  now  know  farther. 

Miranda.  You  have  often 

Begun  to  tell  me  what  I  am,  but  stopp'd 
And  left  me  to  a  bootless  inquisition, 
Concluding, — '  Stay,  not  yet.' 

Prospero.  The  hour  's  now  come ; 

The  very  minute  bids  thee  ope  thine  ear: 
Obey,  and  be  attentive.     Canst  thou  remember 
A  time  before  we  came  unto  this  cell.'' 

I  do  not  think  thou  canst,  for  then  thou  wast  not  40 

Out  three  years  old. 

Miranda.  Certainly,  sir,  I  can. 

Prospero.  By  what?  by  any  other  house  or  person.-* 
Of  any  thing  the  image  tell  me  that 
Hath  kept  with  thy  remembrance. 

Aliranda.  'T  is  far  off. 

And  rather  like  a  dream  than  an  assurance 
That  my  remembrance  warrants.     Had  I  not 
Four  or  five  women  once  that  tended  me? 

Prospero.  Thou  hadst,  and  more,  Miranda.     But  how  is  it 
That  this  lives  in  thy  mind?     ^\'hat  seest  thou  else 
In  the  dark  backward  and  abysm  of  time  ?  5° 

If  thou  remember'st  aught  ere  thou  cam'st  here, 
How  thou  cam'st  here  thou  mayst. 


38 


THE    TEMPEST. 


Miranda.  But  that  I  do  not. 

Prospcro.  Twelve  year  since,  Miranda,  twelve  year  since, 
Thy  father  was  the  Duke  of  Milan  and 
A  prince  of  power. 

Mirafida.  Sir,  are  not  you  my  father? 

Prospero.  Thy  mother  was  a  piece  of  virtue,  and 
She  said  thou  wast  my  daughter ;  and  thy  father 
Was  Duke  of  Milan  ;  and  his  only  heir 
And  princess,  no  worse  issued. 

Miratida.  O  the  heavens ! 

What  foul  play  had  we,.that  we  came  from  thence.'  6c 

Or  blessed  was  't  we  did? 

Prospero.  Both,  both,  my  girl ; 

By  foul  play,  as  thou  say'st,  were  we  heav'd  thence, 
But  blessedly  holp  hither. 

Miranda.  O,  my  heart  bleeds 

To  think  o'  the  teen  that  I  have  turn'd  you  to, 
Which  is  from  my  remembrance !     Please  you,  farther. 

Prospero.   My  brother,  and  thy  uncle,  calTd  Antonio, — 
I  pray  thee,  mark  me, — that  a  brother  should 
Be  so  perfidious! — he  whom,  next  thyself, 
Of  all  the  world  I  lov'd,  and  to  him  put 
The  manage  of  my  state ;  as  at  that  time  70 

Through  all  the  signiories  it  was  the  first. 
And  Prospero  the  prime  duke,  being  so  reputed 
In  dignity,  and,  for  the  liberal  arts, 
Without  a  parallel ;  those  being  all  my  study. 
The  government  I  cast  upon  my  brother, 
And  to  my  state  grew  stranger,  being  transported 
And  rapt  in  secret  studies.     Thy  false  uncle — 
Dost  thou  attend  me  ? 

Miranda.  Sir,  most  heedfully. 

Prospero.  Being  once  perfected  how  to  grant  suits, 
How  to  deny  them,  who  to  advance,  and  who  80 

To  trash  for  overtopping,  new  created 


ACT  I.     SCENE  II. 


39 


The  creatures  that  were  mine,  I  say,  or  chang'd  'em, 

Or  else  new  form'd  'em  ;  having  both  the  key 

Of  officer  and  office,  set  all  hearts  i'  the  state - 

To  what  tune  pleas'd  his  ear,  that  now  he  was 

The  ivy  which  had  hid  my  princely  trunk. 

And  suck'd  my  verdure  out  on  't. — Thou  attend'st  not. 

Miranda.   O,  good  sir,  I  do  ! 

Prospero.  I  pray  thee,  mark  me. 

I,  thus  neglecting  worldly  ends,  all  dedicated 
To  closeness  and  the  bettering  of  my  mind  90 

With  that  which,  but  by  being  so  retir'd, 
O'er-priz'd  all  popular  rate,  in  my  false  brother 
Awak'd  an  evil  nature;  and  my  trust. 
Like  a  good  parent,  did  beget  of  him 
A  falsehood,  in  it's  contrary  as  great 
As  my  trust  was;  which  had  indeed  no  limit, 
A  confidence  sans  bound.     He  being  thus  lorded, 
Not  only  with  what  my  revenue  yielded, 
But  what  my  power  might  else  exact — like  one 
Who  having  unto  truth,  by  telling  of  it,  100 

Made  such  a  sinner  of  his  memory, 
To  credit  his  own  lie — he  did  believe 
He  was  indeed  the  duke,  out  o'  the  substitution. 
And  executing  the  outward  face  of  royalty, 
With  all  prerogative ;  hence  his  ambition 
Growing, — dost  thou  hear? 

Miranda.  Your  tale,  sir,  would  cure  deafness. 

Prospero.  To  have  no  screen  between  this  part  he  play'd 
And  him  he  play'd  it  for,  he  needs  will  be 
Absolute  Milan.     Me,  poor  man  ! — my  library 
\V^as  dukedom  large  enough.     Of  temporal  royalties  no 

He  thinks  me  now  incapable  ;  confederates — 
So  dry  he  was  for  sway — wi'  the  King  of  Naples 
To  give  him  annual  tribute,  do  him  homage, 
Subject  his  coronet  to  his  crown,  and  bend  ■ 


40 


rilE    TEMPEST. 


The  dukedom  yet  unbow'd — alas,  poor  Milan  ! — 
To  moat  ignoble  stooping. 

Miranda.  O  the  heavens  ! 

Prospero.  Mark  his  condition,  and  the  event ;  then  tell  me 
If  this  might  be  a  brother. 

Miranda.  I  should  sin 

To  think  but  nobly  of  my  grandmother; 
Good  wombs  have  borne  bad  sons. 

Propero.  Now  the  condition.     120 

This  King  of  Naples,  being  an  enemy 
To  me  inveterate,  hearkens  my  brother's  suit; 
Which  was,  that  he,  in  lieu  o'  the  premises. 
Of  homage  and  I  know  not  how  much  tribute, 
Should  presently  extirpate  me  and  mine 
Out  of  the  dukedom,  and  confer  fair  Milan, 
With  all  the  honours,  on  my  brother:  whereon, 
A  treacherous  army  levied,  one  midnight 
Fated  to  the  purpose,  did  Antonio  open 
The  gates  of  Milan ;  and,  i'  the  dead  of  darkness,  13° 

The  ministers  for  the  purpose  hurried  thence 
Me  and  thy  crying  self. 

Miranda.  Alack,  for  pity ! 

I,  not  remembering  how  I  cried  out  then, 
Will  cry  it  o'er  again;  it  is  a  hint 
That  wrings  my  eyes  to  't. 

Prospero.  Hear  a  little  further, 

And  then  I  '11  bring  thee  to  the  present  business 
Which  now  's  upon  's;  without  the  which  this  story 
Were  most  impertinent. 

Miranda.  Wherefore  did  they  not  ■ 

That  hour  destroy  us? 

Prospero.  Well  demanded,  wench  ; 

My  tale  provokes  that  question.     Dear,  they  durst  not,      140 
So  dear  the  love  my  people  bore  me,  nor  set 
A  mark  so  bloody  on  the  business,  but 


ACT  I.    SCENE  II. 


41 


With  colors  fairer  painted  their  foul  ends. 

In  i^"^,  they  hurried  us  aboard  a  bark, 

Bore  us  some  leagues  to  sea,  where  they  prepar'd 

A  rotten  carcass  of  a  boat,  not  rigg'd, 

Nor  tackle,  sail,  nor  mast;  the  very  rats 

Instinctively  have  quit  it.     There  they  hoist  us, 

To  cry  to  the  sea  that  roar'd  to  us;  to  sigh 

To  the  winds,  whose  pity,  sighing  back  again,  150 

Did  us  but  loving  wrong. 

Miranda.  Alack,  what  trouble 

Was  I  then  to  you ! 

Prospero.  O,  a  cherubin 

Thou  wast,  that  did  preserve  me!     Thou  didst  smile, 
Infused  with  a  fortitude  from  heaven, 
When  I  have  deck'd  the  sea  with  drops  full  salt, 
Under  my  burthen  groan'd;  which  rais'd  in  me 
An  undergoing  stomach,  to  bear  up 
Against  what  should  ensue. 

Miranda.  How  came  we  ashore  ? 

Prospero.   By  Providence  divine. 
Some  food  we  had  and  some  fresh  water  that  i6o 

A  noble  Neapolitan,  Gonzalo, 
Out  of  his  charity,  who  being  then  appointed 
Master  of  this  design,  did  give  us,  with 
Rich  garments,  linens,  stuffs,  and  necessaries, 
Which  since  have  steaded  much.     So,  of  his  gentleness. 
Knowing  I  lov'd  my  books,  he  furnish'd  me, 
From  mine  own  library,  with  volumes  that 
I  prize  above  my  dukedom. 

Miranda.  Would  I  might 

But  ever  see  that  man  ! 

Prospero.  Now  I  arise. — 

Sit  still,  and  hear  the  last  of  our  sea-sorrow.  17° 

Here  in  this  island  we  arriv'd ;  and  here 
Have  I,  thy  schoolmaster,  made  thee  more  profit 


42 


THE    TEMPEST. 


Than  other  princess  can,  that  have  more  tuTie 
For  vainer  hours,  and  tutors  not  so  careful. 

Miranda.    Heavens  thank  you  for  't!     And  now,  I  pray 
you,  sir, 
For  still  't  is  beating  in  my  mind,  your  reason 
For  raising  this  sea-storm? 

Prospero.  Know  thus  far  forth  : 

By  accident  most  strange,  bountiful  Fortune, 
Now  my  dear  lady,  hath  mine  enemies 

Brought  to  this  shore;  and  by  my  prescience  iSo 

I  find  my  zenith  doth  depend  upon 
A  most  auspicious  star,  whose  influence 
If  now  I  court  not  but  omit,  my  fortunes 
Will  ever  after  droop.     Here  cease  more  questions : 
Thou  art  inclin'd  to  sleep;  't  is  a  good  dulness, 
And  give  it  way. — I  know  thou  canst  not  choose. — 

\AIiranda  sleeps. 
Come  away,  servant,  come!     I  am  ready  now; 
Approach,  my  Ariel,  come ! 

Enter  Ariel. 

Ariel.  All  hail,  great  master!  grave  sir,  hail!     I  come 
To  answer  thy  best  pleasure  ;  be  't  to  fly,  19° 

To  swim,  to  dive  into  the  fire,  to  ride 
On  the  curl'd  clouds,  to  thy  strong  bidding  task 
Ariel  and  all  his  quality. 

Prospero.  Hast  thou,  spirit, 

Perform'd  to  point  the  tempest  that  I  bade  thee? 

Ariel.  To  every  article. 
I  boarded  the  king's  ship  ;  now  on  the  beak. 
Now  in  the  waist,  the  deck,  in  every  cabin, 
I  flam'd  amazement :  sometime  I  'd  divide, 
And  burn  in  many  places;  on  the  topmast, 
The  yards,  and  bowsprit,  would  I  flame  distinctly,  2o« 

Then  meet  and  join.     Jove's  lightnings,  the  precursors 


AC 7'  I.     SCEA'E   If. 

O'  the  dreadful  thunder-claps,  more  momentary 
And  sight-outrunning  were  not;  the  fire  and  cracks 
Of  sulphurous  roaring  the  most  mighty  Neptune 
Seem  to  besiege,  and  make  his  bold  waves  tremble, 
Yea,  his  dread  tiident  shake. 

Prospero.  My  brave  spirit ! 

Who  was  so  firm,  so  constant,  that  this  coil 
Would  not  infect  his  reason? 

Ariel.  Not  a  soul 

But  felt  a  fever  of  the  mad,  and  play'd 
Some  tricks  of  desperation.     All  but  mariners 
Plung'd  in  the  foaming  brine,  and  quit  the  vessel, 
Thea  all  afire  with  me  :  the  king's  son,  Ferdinand, 
With  hair  up-staring, — then  like  reeds,  not  hair, — 
Was  the  first  man  that  leap'd ;  cried, '  Hell  is  empty, 
And  all  the  devils  are  here.' 

Prospero.  ^^'hy,  that 's  my  spirit! 

But  was  no;  this  nigh  shore.-' 

Ariel.  Close  by,  my  master, 

Prospero.  But  are  they,  Ariel,  safe? 

Ariel.  Not  a  hair  perish'd; 

Cn  their  sustaining  garments  not  a  blemish, 
But  fresher  than  before  :  and,  as  thou  bad'st  me, 
In  troops  I  have  dispers'd  them  'bout  the  isle. 
The  king's  son  have  I  landed  by  himself; 
Whom  I  left  cooling  of  the  air  with  sighs 
In  an  odd  angle  of  the  isle,  and  sitting. 
His  -arms  in  this  sad  knot. 

Prospero.  Of  the  king's  ship 

The  mariners,  say  how  thou  hast  disposed. 
And  all  the  rest  o'  the  fleet. 

Ariel.  Safely  in  harbour 

Is  the  king's  ship;  in  the  deep  nook,  where  once 
Thou  cairdst  me  up  at  midnight  to  fetch  dew 
From  the  still-vex'd  Bermoothes,  there  she  's  hid; 


43 


44 


THE    TEMPEST. 


The  mariners  all  under  hatches  stow'd,  230 

Who,  with  a  charm  join'd  to  their  suffer'd  labour, 

I  have  left  asleep ;  and  for  the  rest  o'  the  fleet, 

Which  I  dispers'd,  they  all  have  met  again, 

And  are  upon  the  Mediterranean  flote, 

Bound  sadly  home  for  Naples, 

Supposing  that  they  saw  the  king's  ship  wrack'd. 

And  his  great  person  perish. 

Prospero.  Ariel,  thy  charge 

Exactly  is  perform'd ;  but  there  's  more  work. 
What  is  the  time  o'  tli.e  day? 

Ariel.  Past  the  mid  season, 

Prospero.  At  least  two  glasses:  the  time  'twixt  six  and  now 
Must  by  us  both  be  spent  most  preciously.  241 

Arid,  Is  there  more  toil.''    Since  thou  dost  give  me  pains. 
Let  me  remember  thee  what  thou  hast  promis'd, 
Which  is  not  yet  perform'd  me. 

Prospero.  How  now  ?  moody? 

What  is  't  thou  canst  demand? 

Ariel.  My  liberty. 

Prospero.  Before  the  time  be  out?  no  more! 

Ariel.  I  prithee, 

Remember  I  have  done  thee  worthy  service ; 
Told  thee  no  lies,  made  no  mistakings,  serv'd 
Without  or  grudge  or  grumblings.     Thou  didst  promise 
To  bate  me  a  full  year. 

Prospero.  Dost  thou  forget  250 

From  what  a  torment  I  did  free  thee  ? 

Ariel.  No. 

Prospero.  Thou  dost;  and  think'st  it  much  to  tread  the 
ooze 
Of  the  salt  deep, 

To  run  upon  the  sharp  wind  of  the  north. 
To  do  me  business  in  the  veins  o'  the  earth 
When  it  is  bak'd  with  frost. 


ACT  I.     SCENE   IT. 


45 


Ariel.  I  do  not,  sir. 

Prospero.  Thou  liest,  malignant  thing  !     Hast  thou  forgot 
The  foul  witch  Sycorax,  who  with  age  and  envy 
Was  grown  into  a  hoop?  hast  thou  forgot  her? 

Ariel.   No,  sir. 

Prospero.  Thou  hast.   Where  was  she  born  ?  speak;  tell  me. 

Ariel.  Sir,  in  Argier. 

Prospero.  O,  was  she  so  ?     I  must  261 

Once  in  a  month  recount  what  thou  hast  been, 
"Which  thou  forget'st.     This  damn'd  witch  Sycorax, 
For  mischiefs  manifold  and  sorceries  terrible 
To  enter  human  hearing,  from  Argier, 
Thou  know'st,  was  banish'd  ;  for  one  thing  she  did 
They  would  not  take  her  life.     Is  not  this  true  ? 

Ariel.  Ay,  sir. 

Prospero.  This  blue-eyed  hag  was  hither  brought  with  child, 
And  here  was  left  by  the  sailors.     Thou,  my  slave,  270 

As  thou  report'st  thyself,  wast  then  her  servant; 
And,  for  thou  wast  a  spirit  too  delicate 
To  act  her  earthy  and  abhorr'd  commands, 
Refusing  her  grand  bests,  she  did  confine  thee, 
By  help  of  her  more  potent  ministers. 
And  in  her  most  unmitigable  rage. 
Into  a  cloven  pine  ;  within  wiiich  rift 
Iinprison'd  thou  didst  painfully  remain 
A  dozen  years;  within  which  space  she  died, 
And  left  thee  there,  where  thou  didst  vent  thy  groans         jSj 
As  fast  as  mill-wheels  strike.     Then  was  this  island — 
Save  for  the  son  that  she  did  litter  here, 
A  freckled  whelp,  hag-born — not  honour'd  with 
A  human  shape. 

Arid.  Yes,  Caliban  her  son. 

Prospero.  Dull  thing,  I  say  so  ;  he,  that  Caliban, 
Whom  now  I  keep  in  service.  'I'hou  best  know'st 
What  torment  I  did  find  thee  in  ;  thy  groans 


46  THE    TEMPEST. 

Did  make  wolves  howl,  and  penetrate  the  breasts 

Of  ever-angry  bears.     It  was  a  torment 

To  lay  upon  the  damn'd,  which  Sycorax  290 

Could  not  again  undo;  it  was  mine  art, 

When  I  arriv'd  and  heard  thee,  that  made  gape 

The  pine,  and  let  thee  out*. 

Ariel.  I  thank  thee,  master. 

Prospero.  If  thou  more  murmur'st,  I  will  rend  an  oak, 
And  peg  thee  in  his  knotty  entrails  till 
Thou  hast  howl'd  away  twelve  winters. 

Ariel.  •  Pardon,  master ; 

I  will  be  correspondent  to  command, 
And  do  ray  spriting  gently. 

Prospero.  Do  so,  and  after  two  days 

I  will  discharge  thee. 

Ariel.  That 's  my  noble  master! 

What  shall  I  do?  say  what ;  what  shall  I  do?  300 

Prospero.  Go  make  thyself  like  a  nymph  o'  the  sea ;  be 
subject 
To  no  sight  but  thine  and  mine,  invisible 
To  every  eyeball  else.     Go,  take  this  shape. 
And  hither  come  in  't ;  go,  hence  with  diligence  ! — 

\Exit  Ariel. 
Awake,  dear  heart,  awake  !  thou  hast  slept  well ; 
Awake  ! 

Miranda.  The  strangeness  of  your  story  put 
Heaviness  in  me. 

Prospero.  Shake  it  off.     Come  on ; 

We  '11  visit  Caliban  my  slave,  who  never 
Yields  us  kind  answer. 

Miranda.  'T  is  a  villain,  sir, 

I  do  not  love  to  look  on. 

Prospero.  But,  as 't  is,  yo 

We  cannot  miss  him  \  he  does  make  our  fire. 
Fetch  in  our  wood,  and  serves  in  offices 


ACT  I.     SCENE   11.  47 

That  profit  us. — What,  ho  !  slave  !  Caliban  ! 
Thou  earth,  thou  !  speak. 

Caliban  \lVithin\  There  's  wood  enough  within. 

Frospero.  Come  forth,  I  say !  there 's  other  business  for  thee ; 
Come,  thou  tortoise  !  when  ? — 

Enter  Ariel,  like  a  7vater-nymph. 
Fine  apparition  !     My  quainbAriel, 
Hark  in  thine  ear. 

Ariel.  My  lord,  it  shall  be  done.  .\_Exit. 

Frospero.  Thou  poisonous  slave, -come  forth  ! 

Enter  Caliban. 

Caliban.   As  wicked  dew  as  e'er  my  mother  brush'd         320 
With  raven's  feather  from  unwholesome  fen 
Drop  on  you  both  !  a  south-west  blow  on  ye, 
And  blister  you  all  o'er? 

Frospero.   For  this,  be  sure,  to-night  thou  shalt  have  cramps, 
Side-stitches  that  shall  pen  thy  breath  up  ;  urchins 
Shall,  for  that  vast  of  night  that  they  may  work, 
All  exercise  on  thee  ;  thou  shalt  be  pinch'd 
As  thick  as  honeycomb,  each  pinch  more  stinging 
Than  bees  that  made  'em. 

Caliban.  I  must  eat  my  dinner. 

This  island  's  mine,  by  Sycorax  my  mother,  330 

Which  thou  tak'st  from  me.     When  thou  earnest  first. 
Thou  strok'dst  me  and  mad'st  much  of  me,  wouldst  give  me 
Water  with  berries  in  't,  and  teach  me  how 
To  name  the  bigger  light,  and  how  the  less, 
That  burn  by  day  and  night ;  and  then  I  lov'd  thee, 
And  show'd  thee  all  the  qualities  o'  the  isle. 
The  fresh  springs,  brine-pits,  barren  place  and  fertile. 
Cursed  be  I  that  did  so!     All  the  charms 
Of  Sycorax,  toads,  beetles,  bats,  light  on  you  ! 
For  I  am  all  the  subjects  that  you  have,  340 


48  THE    TEMPEST. 

^\'hich  first  was  mine  own  king;  and  here  you  sty  me 
In  this  hard  rock,  whiles  you  do  keep  from  me 
The  rest  o'  the  island. 

Prospero.  Thou  most  lying  slave, 

Whom  stripes  may  move,  not  kindness !     I  have  us'd  thee, 
Filth  as  thou  art,  with  human  care,  and  lodg'd  thee 
In  mine  own  cell,  till  thou  didst  seek  to  violate 
The  honour  of  my  child. 

Caliban.  O  ho,  O  ho!  would  't  had  been  done! 

Thou  didst  prevent  me  ;  I  had  peopled  else 
This  isle  with  Calibans. 

Prospero.  Abhorred  slave, 

Which  any  print  of  goodness  wilt  not  take,  35° 

Being  capable  of  all  ill !     I  pitied  thee. 
Took  pains  to  make  thee  speak,  taught  thee  each  hour 
One  thing  or  other ;  when  thou  didst  not,  savage, 
Know  thine  own  meaning,  but  wouldst  gabble  like 
A  thing  most  brutish,  I  endow'd  thy  purposes 
With  words  that  made  them  known.     But  thy  vile  race. 
Though  thou  didst  learn,  had  that  in  't  which  good  natures 
Could  not  abide  to  be  with ;  therefore  wast  thou 
Deservedly  confin'd  into  this  rock. 
Who  hadst  deservM  more  than  a  prison.  360 

Caliban.  You  taught  me  language  ;  and  my  profit  on  't 
Is,  I  know  how  to  curse.     The  red  plague  rid  you 
For  learning  me  your  language  ! 

Prospero.  Hag-seed,  hence  ! 

Fetch  us  in  fuel  ;  and  be  quick,  thou  'rt  best. 
To  answer  other  business.     Shrug'st  thou,  malice  ? 
If  thou  neglect'st,  or  dost  unwillingly 
What  I  command,  I  '11  rack  thee  with  old  cramps, 
Fill  all  thy  bones  with  aches,  make  thee  roar, 
That  beasts  shall  tremble  at  thy  din. 

Caliban.  No,  pray  thee. 

[Aside]  I  must  obey ;  his  art  is  of  such  power,  37^ 


ACT  I.    SCENE   II. 


49 


It  would  control  my  clam's  god,  Setebos, 
And  make  a  vassal  of  him. 

Prospero.  So,  slave  ;  hence  !     \-Exit  Caliban. 

Enter  Ferdinand,  and  Ariel  {invisible^ playing  and  singing. 
Ariel's  Song. 
Come  unto  these  yellow  sands, 

And  then  take  hands : 
Curtsied  when  you  have,  and  kiss'd 

The  wild  waves  whist. 
Foot  it  featly  here  and  there ; 
And,  sweet  sprites,  the  burthen  bear. 

Hark,  hark  I  ■ 
[Burthen,  dispersedly,  within.  Bow-wow.\     i%o 

The  ivatch-dogs  bark. 
[Burthen,  within.  Bow-wow?^ 

Hark,  hark  !     I  hear 

The  strain  of  strutting  chanticleer 

Cry,  Cock-a-didle-dow. 

Ferdinand.  Where  should  this  music  be  ?  i'  the  air  or  the 
earth  ? — 
It  sounds  no  more; — and,  sure,  it  waits  upon 
Some  god  o'  the  island.     Sitting  on  a  bank. 
Weeping  again  the  king  my  father's  wrack, 
This  music  crept  by  me  upon  the  waters,  390 

Allaying  both  their  fury  and  my  passion 
With  it's  sweet  air;  thence  I  have  follow'd  it. 
Or  rt  hath  drawn  me  rather.     But 't  is  gone. — 
No,  it  begins  again. 

Ariel's  Song. 
Full  fathom  fve  thy  father  lies  ; 

Of  his  bones  arc  coral  made  ; 
Those  are  pearls  thai  were  his  eyes  : 
Notldng  of  him  that  doth  fade, 
D 


JO  THE    TEMPEST. 

But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change 

Into  something  rich  and  strange.  400 

Sea-nymphs  hourly  ring  his  knell : 

[Burthen,  within.  Ding-dong^ 
Hark  !  now  I  hear  them — Ding-dong,  bell. 

Ferdinand.  The  ditty  does  remember  my  drown'd  father. 
This  is  no  mortal  business,  nor  no  sound 
That  the  earth  owes. — I  hear  it  now  above  me. 

Prospero.  The  fringed  curtains  of  thine  eye  advance, 
And  say  what  thou  see,st  yond. 

Miranda.  What  is  't?  a  spirit? 

Lord,  how  it  looks  about !     Believe  me,  sir, 
It  carries  a  brave  form.     But  't  is  a  spirit.  410 

Prospero.  No,  wench  ;  it  eats  and  sleeps  and  hath  such- 
senses 
As  we  have — such.     This  gallant  which  thou  seest 
Was  in  the  wrack;  and,  but  he  's  something  stain'd 
With  grief  that  's  beauty's  canker,  thou  mightst  call  him 
A  goodly  person.     He  hath  lost  his  fellows, 
And  strays  about  to  find  'em. 

Miranda.  I  might  call  him 

A  thing  divine,  for  nothing  natural 
I  ever  saw  so  noble. 

Prospero  \^Aside\.       It  goes  on,  I  see, 
As  my  soul  prompts  it. — Spirit,  fine  spirit  !  I  '11  free  thee 
Within  two  days  for  this. 

Ferdinand.  Most  sure,  the  goddess  420 

On  whom  these  airs  attend  ! — Vouchsafe  my  prayer 
May  know  if  you  remain  upon  this  island  ; 
And  that  you  will  some  good  instruction  give 
How  I  may  bear  me  here:  my  prime  request, 
Which  I  do  last  pronounce,  is,  O  you  wonder! 
If  you  be  maid  or  no  .-' 

Afiranda.  No  wonder,  sir, 

But  certainlv  a  maid. 


ACT  I.    SCEXE  11. 


51 


Ferdinand.  My  language  !  heavens  ! — 

I  am  the  best  of  them  that  speak  this  speech, 
Were  I  but  where  't  is  spoken. 

Prospero.  How!  the  best? 

What  wert  thou,  if  the  King  of  Naples  heard  thee  ?  430 

Ferdinand.  A  single  thing,  as  I  am  now,  that  wonders 
To  hear  thee  speak  of  Naples.     He  does  hear  me, 
And  that  he  does  I  weep  ;  myself  am  Naples, 
"Who  with  mine  eyes,  never  since  at  ebb,  beheld 
The  king  my  father  wrack'd. 

Miranda.  Alack,  for  mercy  ! 

Ferdinand.  Yes,  faith,  and  all  his  lords;  the  Duke  of  Milan 
And  his  brave  son  being  twain. 

Prospero  [Aside].  The  Duke  of  Milan 

And  his  more  braver  daughter  could  control  thee, 
If  now  't  were  fit  to  do  't. — At  the  first  sight 
They  have  chang'd  eyes. — Delicate  Ariel,  44-> 

I  '11  set  thee  free  for  this. — [7b  /lim]  A  word,  good  sir; 
I  fear  you  have  done  yourself  some  wrong  :  a  word. 

Miranda.   Why  speaks  my  father  so  ungently.''     This 
Is  the  third  man  that  e'er  I  saw,  the  first 
That  e'er  I  sigh'd  for  ;  pity  move  my  father 
To  be  inclin'd  my  way  ! 

Ferdinand.  O,  if  a  virgin. 

And  your  affection  not  gone  forth,  I  '11  make  you 
The  Queen  of  Naples. 

Prospero.  Soft,  sir!  one  word  more. — 

[Aside\  They   are  both   in   cither's   powers ;  but  this  swift 

business 
I  must  uneasy  make,  lest  too  light  winning  45D 

Make  the  prize  light. — [To  hini\  One  word  more;  I  charge 

thee 
That  thou  attend  mc.     Thou  dost  here  usurp 
The  name  thou  owest  not,  and  hast  put  thyself 
Upon  this  island  as  a  spy,  to  win  it 
From  me,  the  lord  on  't. 


52 


THE    TEMPEST. 


Ferdinand.  No,  as  I  am  a  man. 

Miranda.  There  's  nothing  ill  can  dwell  in  such  a  temple  ; 
If  the  ill  spirit  have  so  fair  a  house, 
Good  things  will  strive  to  dwell  with  't. 

Prospcro.  \_To  Ferdinand^  Follow  me. — 

Speak  not  you  for  him  ;  he  's  a  traitor. — Come  ; 
I  '11  manacle  thy  neck  and  feet  together:  460 

Sea-water  shalt  thou  drink  ;  thy  food  shall  be 
The  fresh-brook  muscles,  wither'd  roots,  and  husks 
Wherein  the  acorn  cradled.     Follow. 

Ferdinand.  ,  No ; 

I  will  resist  such  entertainment  till 
Mine  enemy  has  more  power. 

yHe  draws,  and  is  charmed  from  moving. 

Miranda.  O  dear  father  ! 

Make  not  too  rash  a  trial  of  him,  for 
He  's  gentle,  and  not  fearful. 

Prospero.  What !  I  say, 

My  foot  my  tutor? — Put  thy  sword  up,  traitor, 
Who  mak'st  a  show,  but  dar'st  not  strike,  thy  conscience 
Is  so  possess'd  with  guilt :  come  from  thy  ward  ;  47° 

For  I  can  here  disarm  thee  with  this  stick. 
And  make  thy  weapon  drop. 

Miranda.  Beseech  you,  father  ! 

Prospero.   Hence  !  hang  not  on  my  garments. 

Miranda.  Sir,  have  pity  ; 

I  '11  be  his  surety. 

Prospero.  Silence  !  one  word  more 

Shall  make  me  chide  thee,  if  not  hate  thee  !     What ! 
An  advocate  for  an  impostor!  hush  I 
Thou  think'st  there  is  no  more  such  shapes  as  he, 
Having  seen  but  him  and  Caliban  ;  foolish  wench! 
To  the  most  of  men  this  is  a  Caliban, 
And  they  to  him  are  angels. 

Miranda.  My  affections  4S0 


ACT  I.     SCENE   IT. 


53 


Are,  then,  most  humble;  I  have  no  ambition 
'J'o  see  a  goodHer  man. 

Prospero.  \^To  Ferdmand]  Come  on;  obey: 
Thy  nerves  are  in  their  infancy  again, 
And  have  no  vigour  in  them. 

Ferdinand.  So  they  are  ; 

My  spirits,  as  in  a  dream,  are  all  bound  up. 
My  father's  loss,  the  weakness  which  I  feel, 
The  wrack  of  all  my  friends,  nor  this  man's  threats 
To  whom  I  am  subdued,  are  but  light  to  me, 
Might  I  but  through  my  prison  once  a  day 
Behold  this  maid.     All  corners  else  o'  the  earth  490 

Let  liberty  make  use  of;  space  enough 
Have  I  in  such  a  prison. 

Prospero.  \Aside\  It  works. — \_7o  Ferdinand '\  Come  on. — 
Thou  hast  done  well,  fine  Ariel ! — Follow  me. — 
\_To  Ariel]  Hark  what  thou  else  shalt  do  me. 

Miranda.  Be  of  comfort. 

My  father  's  of  a  better  nature,  sir. 
Than  he  appears  by  speech;  this  is  unwonted 
Which  now  came  from  him. 

Prospero.  Thou  shalt  be  as  free 

As  mountain  winds;  but  then  exactly  do 
All  points  of  my  command. 

Ariel.  To  the  syllable. 

Prospero.  Come,  follow. — Speak  not  for  him.         \Excnnf. 


,  \3i>A     W«^ 


ACT  II. 

Scene  I.     Another  Part  of  the  IslaJid. 

Enter  Alonso,  Sebastian,  Antonio,  Gonzalo,  Adrian, 
Francisco,  and  others. 

Gonzalo.  Beseech  you,  sir,  be  merry  ;  you  have  cause — 
So  have  we  all — of  joy  ;  for  our  escape 
Is  much  beyond  our  loss.     Our  hint  of  woe 
Is  common  :  every  day,  some  sailor's  wife, 


ACT  II.     SCENE   I. 


55 


The  masters  of  some  merchant,  and  the  merchant, 
Have  just  our  theme  of  woe  ;  but  for  the  miracle — 
I  mean  our  preservation — few  in  millions 
Can  speak  like  us  :  then  wisely,  good  sir,  weigh 
Our  sorrow  with  our  comfort. 

Alonso.  Prithee,  peace. 

Sebastian.  He  receives  comfort  like  cold  porridge.  lo 

Antonio.  The  visitor  will  not  give  him  o'er  so. 

Sebastian.  Look,  he  's  winding  up  the  watch  of  his  wit;  by 
and  by  it  will  strike. 

Gonzalo.  Sir, — 

Sebastian.  One ;  tell. 

Gonzalo.  When  every  grief  isentertain'd  that 's  ofifer'd, 
Comes  to  the  entertainer — 

Sebastian.  A  dollar. 

Gonzalo.   Dolour  comes  to  him,  indeed ;  you  have  spoken 
truer  than  you  purpos'd.  20 

Sebastian.  You  have  taken  it  wiselier  than  I  meant  you 
should. 

Gonzalo.  Therefore,  my  lord, — 

Antonio.  Fie,  what  a  spendthrift  is  he  of  his  tongue! 

Alonso.  I  prithee,  spare. 

Gonzalo.  Well,  I  have  done ;  but  yet, — 

Sebastian.   He  will  be  talking. 

Antonio.  Which,  of  he  or  Adrian,  for  a  good  wnger,  first  be- 
gins to  crow.? 

Sebastian.  The  old  cock.  30 

Antonio.  The  cockerel. 

Sebastian.  Done.     The  wager  ? 

Antonio.   A  laughter. 

Sebastian.   A  match  ! 

Adrian.  Though  this  island  seem  to  be  desert, — 

Antonio.   Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Sebastian.   So,  you  're  paid. 

Adrian.  Uninhabitable,  and  almost  inaccessible, — 


56 


THE    r KM  PEST. 


Sebastian.   Yet, — 

Ad  flan.  Yet, —  40 

Antofiio.   He  could  not  miss  't. 

Adrian.  It  must  needs  be  of  subtle,  tender,  and  delicate 
temperance. 

Antonio.  Temperance  was  a  delicate  wench. 

Sebastian.  Ay,  and  a  subtle  ;  as  he  most  learnedly  deliv- 
er'd. 

Adrian.  The  air  breathes  upon  us  here  most  sweetly. 

Sebastian.   As  if  it  had  lungs,  and  rotten  ones. 

Antonio.  Or  as  't  were  perfumed  by  a  fen. 

Gonzalo.  Here  is  every  thing  advantageous  to  li/e.  so 

Antonio.  True  ;  save  means  to  live. 

Sebastian.  Of  that  there  's  none,  or  little. 

Gonzaio.  How  lush  and  lusty  the  grass  looks !  how  green  ! 

Antonio.  The  ground,  indeed,  is  tawny. 

SebastiaJi.  With  an  eye  of  green  in  't. 

Antonio.   He  misses  not  much. 

Sebastian.  No  ;  he  doth  but  mistake  the  truth  totally. 

Gonzaio.  But  the  rarity  of  it  is, — which  is  indeed  almost 
beyond  credit, — 

Sebastian.   As  many  vouched  rarities  are.  60 

Gonzalo.  That  our  garments,  being,  as  they  were,  drenched 
in  the  sea,  hold,  notwithstanding,  their  freshness  and  glosses, 
being  rather  new-dyed  than  stained  with  salt  water. 

Antonio.  If  but  one  of  his  pockets  could  speak,  would  it 
not  say  he  lies? 

Sebastian.  Ay,  or  very  falsely  pocket  up  his  report. 

Gonzalo.  Methinks  our  garments  are  now  as  fresh  as  when 
we  put  them  on  first  in  Afric,  at  the  marriage  of  the  king's 
fair  daughter  Claribel  to  the  King  of  Tunis. 

Sebastian.  'T  was  a  sweet  marriage,  and  we  prosper  well  in 
our  return.  71 

Adrian.  Tunis  was  never  graced  before  with  such  a  para- 
gon to  their  queen. 


AC 7^  If.     SCENE   I. 


57 


Gonzalo.  Not  since  widow  Dido's  time, 

Antonio.  Widow  !  a  plague  o'  that !  How  came  that  widow 
in  ?     Widow  Dido  ! 

Sebastian.  What  if  he  had  said  widower  ^neas  too  ?  Good 
Lord,  how  you  take  it ! 

Adrian.  Widow  Dido,  said  you?  you  make  me  study  of 
that ;  she  was  of  Carthage,  not  of  Tunis.  80 

Gonzalo.  This  Tunis,  sir,  was  Carthage. 

Adrian.   Carthage  ? 

Gonzalo.  I  assure  you,  Carthage. 

Antonio.  His  word  is  more  than  the  miraculous  harp. 

Sebastian.   He  hath  raised  the  wall,  and  houses  too. 

Antonio.  What  impossible  matter  will  he  make  easy  next? 

Sebastian.  I  think  he  will  carry  this  island  home  in  his 
pocket,  and  give  it  his  son  for  an  apple. 

Afitojiio.  And,  sowing  the  kernels  of  it  in  the  sea,  bring 
forth  more  islands.  qo 

Gonzalo.  Ay  ? 

Antonio.  Why,  in  good  time. 

Gonzalo.  Sir,  we  were  talking  that  our  garments  seem  now 
as  fresh  as  when  we  were  at  Tunis  at  the  marriage  of  your 
daughter,  who  is  now  queen. 

Antonio.   And  the  rarest  that  e'er  came  there. 

Sebastian.   Bate,  I  beseech  you,  widow  Dido. 

Antonio.  O,  widow  Dido  !  ay,  widow  Dido. 

Gonzalo.  Is  not,  sir,  my  doublet  as  fresh  as  the  first  day  I 
wore  it?  I  mean,  in  a  sort.  100 

A?iionio.  That  sort  was  well  fished  for. 

Gonzalo.  When  I  wore  it  at  your  daughter's  marriage? 

Alonso.  You  cram  these  words  into  mine  cars  ajrainst 
The  stomach  of  my  sense.     Would  I  had  never 
Married  my  daugiiter  there  !  for,  coming  thence, 
My  son  is  lost ;  and,  in  my  rate,  she  too, 
Who  is  so  far  from  Italy  remov'd 
I  ne'er  again  shall  see  her.     O  thou  mine  heir 


58  THE    TEMPEST. 

Of  Naples  and  of  Milan,  what  strange  fish 
Hath  made  his  meal  on  thee  ? 

Francisco.  Sir,  he  may  live :  no 

I  saw  him  beat  the  surges  under  him. 
And  ride  upon  their  backs  ;  he  trod  the  water, 
"Whose  enmity  he  flung  aside,  and  breasted 
The  surge  most  swoln  that  met  him  \  his  bold  head 
'Bove  the  contentious  waves  he  kept,  and  oar'd 
Himself  with  his  good  arms  in  lusty  stroke 
I'o  the  shore,  that  o'er  his  wave-worn  basis  bow'd, 
As  stooping  to  relieve  him.     I  not  doubt 
He  came  alive  to  land. 

A/ofiso.  No,  no,  he  's  gone. 

Sebastian.   Sir,  you  may  thank  yourself  for  this  great  loss. 
That  would  not  bless  our  Europe  with  your  daughter,         121 
But' rather  lose  her  to  an  African  ; 
\Vhere  she  at  least  is  banish'd  from  your  eye, 
Who  hath  cause  to  wet  the  grief  on  't. 

Alonso.  Prithee,  peace. 

Sebastian.  You  were  kneel'd  to,  and  imporlun'd  otherwise, 
By  all  of  us;  and  the  fair  soul  herself 
Weigh'd,  between  loathness  and  obedience,  at 
Which  end  o'  the  beam  she'd  bow.     We  have  lost  your  son, 
I  fear,  forever ;  Milan  and  Naples  have 

Moe  widows  in  them  of  this  business'  making,  130 

Than  we  bring  men  to  comfort  them  :  the  fault  's 
Your  own. 

Alonso.  So  is  the  dear'st  o'  the  loss. 

Gonzalo.  My  lord  Sebastian, 

The  truth  you  speak  doth  lack  some  gentleness, 
And  time  to  speak  it  in  ;  you  rub  the  sore, 
When  you  should  bring  the  plaster. 

Sebastian.  Very  well. 

Antonio.   And  most  chirurgeonly. 

Gonzalo.   It  is  foul  weather  in  us  all,  good  sir, 
When  you  are  cloudy. 


ACT  II.     SCEXE  I. 


59 


Sebastian.  Foul  weather  ? 

Antonio.  Very  foul. 

Gonzalo.   Had  I  plantation  of  this  isle,  my  lord, —  mo 

Atitonio.   He  'd  sow  't  with  nettle-seed. 

Sebastian.  Or  docks,  or  mallows. 

Gonzalo.  And  were  the  king  on  't,  what  would  I  do  ? 

Sebastian.   Scape  being  drunk,  for  want  of  wine. 

Gonzalo.  V  the  commonwealth  I  would  by  contraries 
Execute  all  things  ;  for  no  kind  of  traffic 
Would  I  admit;  no  name  of  magistrate  ; 
Letters  should  not  be  known  ;  riches,  poverty, 
And  use  of  service,  none  ;  contract,  succession, 
Bourn,  bound  of  land,  tilth,  vineyard,  none  ; 
No  use  of  metal,  corn,  or  wine,  or  oil ;  150 

No  occupation  ;  all  men  idle,  all ; 
And  women  too,  but  innocent  and  pure  ; 
No  sovereignty  ; — 

Sebastian.  Yet  he  would  be  king  on  't. 

Antonio.  The  latter  end  of  his  commonwealth  forgets  the 
beginning. 

Gonzalo.  All  things  in  common  nature  should  produce 
Without  sweat  or  endeavour  :  treason,  felony, 
Sword,  pike,  knife,  gun,  or  need  of  any  engine, 
Would  I  not  have  ;  but  nature  should  bring  forth, 
Of  it  own  kind,  all  foison,  all  abundance,  160 

To  feed  my  innocent  people. 

Sebastian.   No  marrying 'mong  his  subjects? 

Antonio.  None,  man  ;  all  idle;  whores  and  knaves. 

Gonzalo.  I  would  with  such  perfection  govern,  sir. 
To  excel  the  golden  age. 

Sebastian.  Save  his  majesty! 

Antcnio.  Long  live  Gonzalo  ! 

Gonzalo.  And, — do  you  mark  me,  sir? — 

Alonso.  Prithee,  no  more  ;  thou  dost  talk  nothing  to  me. 

Gonzalo.   I  do  well  believe  your  highness;  and  did  it  to 


6o  THE    TEMPEST. 

minister  occasion  to  these  gentlemen,  wlio  are  of  such  sen- 
sible and  nimble  lungs  that  they  always  use  to  laugh  at 
nothing.  '7' 

Antonio.  'T  was  you  we  laughed  at. 

Gonzalo.  Who,  in  this  kind  of  merry  fooling,  am  nothing  to 
you";  so  you  may  continue,  and  laugh  at  nothing  still. 

Antonio.  What  a  blow  was  there  given  ! 

Sebastian.   An  it  had  not  fallen  flat-long. 

Gonzalo.  You  are  gentlemen  of  brave  mettle;  you  would 
lift  the  moon  out  of  her  sphere,  if  she  would  continue  in  \^ 
five  weel<s  without  changing. 

Enter  Ariel  [invisible)  playing  solemn  nut  sic. 

Sebastian.  We  would  so,  and  then  go  a  bat-fowling.  i8o 

Antonio.   Nay,  good  my  lord,  be  not  angry. 

Gonzalo.  No,  I  warrant  you  ;  I  will  not  adventure  my  dis- 
cretion so  weakly.  Will  you  laugh  me  asleep,  for  I  am  very 
heavy  ? 

Antonio.  Go  sleep,  and  hear  us. 

\All  sleep  except  Alonso,  Sebastian,  and  Antonio. 

Alonso.  What,  all  so  soon  asleep  !  I  wish  mine  eyes 
Would,  with  themselves,  shut  up  my  thoughts  ;  I  find  • 
They  are  inclin'd  to  do  so. 

Sebastian.  Please  you,  sir, 

Do  not  omit  the  heavy  offer  of  it : 

It  seldom  visits  sorrow;  when  it  doth,  19^ 

It  is  a  comforter. 

Antojiio.  We  two,  my  lord. 

Will  guard  your  person  while  you  take  your  rest, 
And  watch  your  safety. 

Alonso.  Thank  you. — Wondrous  heavy. 

\^Alonso  sleeps.     Exit  Ariel. 

Sebastian.  What  a  strange  drowsiness  possesses  them  ! 

Antonio.   It  is  the  quality  o'  the  climate. 

Sebastian.  Why 


ACT  //.     SCENE   I.  6 1 

Doth  it  not  then  our  eyelids  sink?     I  find  not 
Myself  dispos'd  to  sleep. 

Antonio.  Nor  I ;  my  spirits  are  nimble. 

They  fell  together  all,  as  by  consent ; 
They  dropp'd,  as  by  a  thunder-stroke.     ^Vhat  might, 
Worthy  Sebastian.-' — O,  what  might? — No  more. —  200 

And  yet  niethinks  I  see  it  in  thy  face, 
What  thou  shouldst  be  ;  the  occasion  speaks  thee,  and 
My  strong  imagination  sees  a  crown 
Dropping  upon  thy  head. 

Sebastian.  What,  art  thou  waking  ? 

Antonio.   Do  you  not  hear  me  speak  ? 

Sebastian.  '  I  do ;  and  surely 

It  is  a  sleepy  language,  and  thou  speak'st 
Out  of  thy  sleep.     What  is  it  thou  didst  say? 
This  is  a  strange  repose,  to  be  asleep 
With  eyes  w'ide  open  ;  standing,  speaking,  moving, 
And  yet  so  fast  asleep. 

Antonio.  Noble  Sebastian,  210 

Thou  let'st  thy  fortune  sleep — die,  rather  ;  wink'st 
Whiles  thou  art  waking. 

Sebastian.  Thou  dost  snore  distinctly  ; 

There  's  meaning  in  thy  snores. 

Antonio.   I  am  more  serious  than  my  custom  :  you 
Must  be  so  too,  if  heed  me  ;  which  to  do. 
Trebles  thee  o'er. 

Sebastian.  Well,  I  am  standing  water. 

Antonio.   I  '11  teach  you  how  to  flow. 

Sebastian.  Do  so  ;  to  ebb 

Hereditary  sloth  instructs  me. 

Antonio.  O, 

If  you  but  knew  how  you  the  purpose  cherish 
Whiles  thus  you  mock  it !  how,  in  stripping  it,  aio 

You  more  invest  it !     Ebbing  men,  indeed, 
Most  often  do  so  near  the  bottom  run 
Bv  their  own  fear  or  slotli. 


62  THE   TEMPEST. 

Sebastian.  Prithee,  say  on  ; 

The  setting  of  thine  eye  and  cheek  proclaim 
A  matter  from  thee,  and  a  birth,  indeed, 
Which  throes  thee  much  to  yield. 

Antonio.  Thus,  sir  : 

Although  this  lord  of  weak  remembrance, — this. 
Who  shall  be  of  as  little  memory 
When  he  is  earth'd, — hath  here  almost  persuaded, — 
For  he  's  a  spirit  of  persuasion,  only  23° 

Professes  to  persuade, — the  king  his  son  's  alive, 
'T  is  as  impossible  that. he  's  undrown'd 
As  he  that  sleeps  here  swims. 

Sebastian.  I  have  no  hope 

That  he  's  undrown'd. 

Antonio.  O,  out  of  that  no  hope 

What  great  hope  have  you  !   no  hope  that  way  is 
Another  way  so  high  a  hope  that  even 
Ambition  can  not  pierce  a  wink  beyond, 
But  doubts  discovery  there.     Will  you  grant  with  me 
That  Ferdinand  is  drown'd? 

Sebastiaft.  He  's  gone. 

Antonio.  Then,  tell  me, 

Who  's  the  next  heir  of  Naples .'' 

Sebastian.  Claribel.  24° 

Antonio.  She  that  is  Queen  of  Tunis  ;  she  that  dwells 
Ten  leagues  beyond  man's  life  ;  she  that  from  Naples 
Can  have  no  note,  unless  the  sun  were  post, — 
The  man  i'  the  moon  's  too  slow, — till  new-born  chins 
Be  rough  and  razorable  ;  she  from  whom 
We  all  were  sea-swallow'd,  though  some  cast  again, 
And  by  that  destiny  to  perform  an  act 
Whereof  what  's  past  is  prologue,  what  to  come 
In  yours  and  my  discharge. 

Sebastian.  What  stuff  is  this  !     How  say  you  ? 

'T  is  true,  my  brother's  daughter 's  Queen  of  Tunis  ;  25° 


ACT  II.    SCENE  I.  63 

So  is  she  heir  of  Naples  ;  'tvvixt  which  regions 
There  is  some  space. 

Antonio.  A  space  whose  every  cubit 

Seems  to  cry  out, '  How  shall  that  Claribel 
Measure  us  back  to  Naples?     Keep  in  Tunis, 
And  let  Sebastian  wake.'     Say,  this  were  death 
That  now  hath  seiz'd  them  ;  why,  ihey  were  no  worse 
Than  now  they  are.     There  be  that  can  rule  Naples 
As  well  as  he  that  sleeps  ;  lords  that  can  prate 
As  amply  and  unnecessarily 

As  this  Gonzalo  :  I  myself  could  make  260 

A  chough  of  as  deep  chat.     O,  that  you  bore 
The  mind  that  J  do!  what  a  sleep  were  this 
For  your  advancement  !     Do  you  understand  me? 

Sebastian.   Me  thinks  I  do. 

Antonio.  And  how  does  your  content 

Tender  your  own  good  fortune? 

Sebastian.  I  remember 

You  did  supplant  your  brother  Prospero. 

Antonio.  True : 

And  look  how  well  my  garments  sit  upon  me  ; 
Much  feater  than  before.     My  brother's  servants 
Were  then  my  fellows,  now  they  are  my  men. 

Sebastian.  But,  for  your  conscience —  270 

Antonio.  Ay,  sir;  where  lies  that?     If 't  were  a  kibe, 
'T  would  put  me  to  my  slipper  ;  but  I  feel  not 
This  deity  in  my  bosom.     Twenty  consciences, 
That  stand  'twixt  me  and  Milan,  candied  be  they, 
And  melt,  ere  they  molest !     Here  lies  your  brother, 
No  better  than  the  earth  he  lies  upon. 
If  he  were  that  which  now  he  's  like, — that 's  dead; 
Whom  I,  with  this  obedient  steel,  three  inches  of  it, 
Can  lay  to  bed  forever;  whiles  you,  doing  thus. 
To  the  perpetual  wink  for  aye  might  put  aSo 

This  ancient  morsel,  this  Sir  Prudence,  who 


64  THE    TEMPEST. 

Should  not  upbraid  our  course.     For  all  the  rest, 
They  '11  take  suggestion  as  a  cat  laps  milk  ; 
They  '11  tell  the  clock  to  any  business  that 
We  say  befits  the  hour. 

Sebastian.  Thy  case,  dear  friend, 

Shall  be  my  precedent ;  as  thou  got'st  Milan, 
I  '11  come  by  Naples.     Draw  thy  sword;  one  stroke 
Shall  free  thee  from  the  tribute  which  thou  pay'st, 
And  I  the  king  shall  love  thee. 

Antonio.  Draw  together ; 

And  when  I  rear  my  hand,  do  you  the  like,  29c 

To  fall  it  on  Gonzalo. ' 

Sebastian.  O,  but  one  word.     \They  talk  apart. 

Enter  Ariel,  with  music  and  song. 

Ariel.  My  master  through  his  art  foresees  the  danger 
That  you,  his  friend,  are  in,  and  sends  me  forth, — 
For  else  his  project  dies, — to  keep  thee  living. 

\^Sings  in  Gonzalo'' s  ear. 

While  you  here  do  snoring  lie, 
Open-eyed  conspiracy 

His  time  doth  take. 
If  of  life  you  keep  a  care, 
Shake  off^  slumber,  and  be^vare  ; 

Awake  I  Atvake  /  300 

Antonio.  Then  let  us  both  be  sudden. 
Gonzalo.  [Waking']  Now,  good  angels 

Preserve  the  king! — [To  Sebastiati  and  Antonio]  Why,  how 

now  ? — \To  Alonso]  Ho,  awake  ! — 
[To  Sebastian  and  Antonio]  Why  are  you  drawn?  wherefore 
this  ghastly  looking? 
Alofiso.  [Waking]  What's  the  matter? 
Sebastian.  Whiles  we  stood  here  securing  your  repose, 
Even  now,  we  heard  a  hollow  burst  of  bellowing 


ACT  II.     SCENE  II. 


65 


Like  bulls,  or  rather  lions;  did  't  not  wake  you? 
It  struck  mine  ear  most  terribly. 

Alonso.  I  heard  nothing. 

Antonio.  O,  't  was  a  din  to  fright  a  monster's  ear, 
To  make  an  earthquake;  sure,  it  was  the  roar  31° 

Of  a  whole  herd  of  lions. 

Alonso.  Heard  you  this,  Gonzalo  ? 

Gonzalo.  Upon  mine  honour,  sir,  I  heard  a  humming, — 
And  that  a  strange  one  too, — which  did  awake  me. 
I  shak'd  you,  sir,  and  cried  ;  as  mine  eyes  open'd, 
I  saw  their  weapons  drawn  : — there  was  a  noise, 
That 's  verily.     'T  is  best  we  stand  upon  our  guard, 
Or  that  we  quit  this  place ;  let 's  draw  our  weapons. 

AIqhso.  Lead  off  this  ground  ;  and  let 's  make  further  search 
For  my  poor  son. 

Gonzalo.  Heavens  keep  him  from  these  beasts  ! 

For  he  is,  sure,  i'  the  island. 

Alonso.  Lead  ^wzy.  320 

Ariel.  Prospero  my  lord  shall  know  what  I  have  done  ; 
So,  king,  go  safely  on  to  seek  thy  son,  \Exeiint. 

Scene  H.     Another  Part  of  the  Island. 

Enter  Caliban,  tvith  a  burthen  of  wood.     A  noise  of  thunder 

heard. 
Caliban.  All  the  infections  that  the  sun  sucks  up 
From  bogs,  fens,  flats,  on  Prosper  fall,  and  make  him 
By  inch-meal  a  disease  !     His  spirits  hear  me, 
And  yet  I  needs  must  curse.     But  they  '11  nor  pinch, 
Fright  me  with  urchin-shows,  pitch  me  i'  the  mire, 
Nor  lead  me,  like  a  firebrand,  in  the  dark 
Out  of  my  way,  unless  he  bid  'em  :  but 
For  every  trifle  are  they  set  upon  me  ; 
Sometime  like  apes,  that  mow  and  chatter  at  me, 
And  after  bite  me  ;  then  like  hedgehogs,  which  10 

E 


C6  THE    TEMPEST. 

Lie  tumbling  in  my  barefoot  way,  and  mount 
'I'lieir  pricks  at  my  footfall  ;  sometime  am  I 
All  wound  with  adders,  who  with  cloven  tongues 
Do  hiss  me  into  madness. — 

Enter  Trinculo. 

Lo,  now,  lo  ! 
Here  comes  a  spirit  of  his,  and  to  torment  me 
For  bringing  wood  in  slowly.     I  '11  fall  fiat ; 
Perchance  he  will  not  mind  me.  17 

Trinculo.  Here  's  ileither  bush  nor  shrub,  to  bear  off  any 
weather  at  all,  and  another  storm  brewing  ;  I  hear  it  sing  i' 
the  wind.  Yond  same  black  cloud,  yond  huge  one,  looks  like 
a  foul  bombard  that  would  shed  his  liquor.  If  it  should  thun- 
der as  it  did  before,  I  know  not  where  to  hide  my  head;  yond 
same  cloud  cannot  choose  but  fall  by  pailfuls. — What  have 
we  here.'  a  man  or  a  fish.''  dead  or  alive?  A  fish:  he  smells 
like  a  fish;  a  very  ancient  and  fishlike  smell  ;  a  kind  of,  not 
of  the  newest,  Poor-John.  A  strange  fish!  Were  I  in  Eng- 
land now,  as  once  I  was,  and  had  but  this -fish  painted,  not 
a  holiday  fool  there  but  would  give  a  piece  of  silver :  there 
would  this  monster  make  a  man  :  any  strange  beast  there 
makes  a  man.  When  they  will  not  give  a  doit  to  relieve  a 
lame  beggar,  they  will  lay  out  ten  to  see  a  dead  Indian. 
Legged  like  a  man  !  and  his  fins  like  arms !  Warm  o'  my 
troth!  I  do  now  let  loose  my  opinion,  hold  it  no  longer; 
this  is  no  fish,  but  an  islander,  that  hath  lately  suffered  by  a 
thunderbolt.  \Thunderi\  Alas,  the  storm  is  come  again  !  my 
best  way  is  to  creep  under  his  gaberdine  ;  there  is  no  other 
shelter  hereabout.  Misery  acquaints  a  man  with  strange  bed- 
fellows.   I  will  here  shroud  till  the  dregs  of  the  storm  be  past. 

Enter  Stephano,  singing:  a  bottle  in  his  hand. 

Stephano.         I  shall  no  more  to  sea,  to  sea, 

Here  shall  I  die  ashore, —  40 


ACT  II.     SCENE  II. 


67 


This  is  a  very  scurvy  tune  to  sing  at  a  man's  funeral.    Well, 
here  's  my  comfort.  \Drmks. 

[Sings]    The  ?naste?;  the  swabber,  the  boats7uain,  and  I, 
The  gunner,  and  his  mate, 
Lov'd  Mall,  Meg,  and  Marian,  a?id  Margery, 
But  none  of  us  car' d  for  Kate  ; 
For  she  had  a  tongue  with  a  tang. 
Would  cry  to  a  sailor.  Go  hang! 
Then,  to  sea,  boys,  and  let  her  go  hang! 

This  is  a  scurvy  tune  too  ;  but  here  's  my  comfort.    \Drinks. 

Caliban.  Do  not  torment  me  ! — O  !  si 

Stephatio.  What 's  the  matter?  Have  we  devils  here?  Do 
you  put  tricks  upon  's  with  savages  and  men  of  Ind,  ha?  I 
have  not  scaped  drowning  to  be  afeard  now  of  your  four  legs; 
for  it  hath  been  said,  as  proper  a  man  as  ever  went  on  four 
legs  cannot  make  him  give  ground  ;  and  it  shall  be  said  so 
again,  while  Stephano  breathes  at  nostrils. 

Caliban.  The  spirit  torments  me  ! — O  !  58 

Stephano.  This  is  some  monster  of  the  isle  with  four  legs, 
who  hath  got,  as  I  take  it,  an  ague.  \A'here  the  devil  should 
he  learn  our  language?  I  will  give  him  some  relief,  if  it  be 
but  for  that.  If  I  can  recover  him,  and  keep  him  tame,  and 
get  to  Naples  with  him,  he  's  a  present  for  any  emperor  that 
ever  trod  on  neat's-leather. 

Caliban.  Do  not  torment  me,  prithee  ;  I  '11  bring  my  wood 
home  faster. 

Stephano.  He  's  in  his  fit  now,  and  does  not  talk  after  the 
wisest.  He  shall  taste  of  my  bottle  ;  if  he  have  never  drunk 
wine  afore,  it  will  go  near  to  remove  his  fit.  If  I  can  recover 
him  and  keep  him  tame,  I  will  not  take  too  much  for  him  ; 
he  shall  pay  for  him  that  hath  him,  and  that  soundly.  71 

Caliban.  Thou  dost  me  yet  but  little  hurt;  thou  wilt  anon, 
I  know  it  by  thy  trembling:  now  Prosper  works  upon  thee. 

Stephano.  Come  on  your  ways  ;  open  your  mouth  ;  here 


68  THE    TEMPEST. 

is  that  which  will  give  language  to  you,  cat.  Open  your 
mouth  ;  this  will  shake  your  shaking,  I  can  tell  you,  and  that 
soundly:  you  cannot  tell  who  's  your  friend;  open  your  chaps 
again. 

Trincnlo.  I  should  know  that  voice :  it  should  be — but  he 
is  drowned  ;  and  these  are  devils! — O,  defend  me  !  So 

Stephano.  Four  legs  and  two  voices  !  a  most  delicate  mon- 
ster !  His  forward  voice,  now,  is  to  speak  well  of  his  friend  ; 
his  backward  voice  is  to  utter  foul  speeches  and  to  detract. 
If  all  the  wine  in  my  bottle  will  recover  him,  I  will  help  his 
ague.    Come. — Amen-!    I  will  pour  some  in  thy  other  mouth, 

Trinculo.   Stephano. 

Stephana.  Doth  thy  other  mouth  call  me?  INIercy,  mercy ! 
This  is  a  devil,  and  no  monster  :  I  will  leave  him  ;  I  have  no 
long  spoon. 

Triticulo.  Stephano  !  If  thou  beest  Stephano,  touch  me, 
and  speak  to  me  ;  for  I  am  Trinculo, — be  not  afeard, — thy 
good  friend  Trinculo,  92 

Stephano.  If  thou  beest  Trinculo,  come  forth  :  I  '11  pull  thee 
by  the  lesser  legs  ;  if  any  be  Trinculo's  legs,  these  are  they. 
Thou  art  very  Trinculo  indeed  !  How  camest  thou  to  be 
the  siege  of  this  moon-calf?     Can  he  vent  Trinculos? 

Trinculo.  I  took  him  to  be  killed  with  a  thunder-stroke. — 
But  art  thou  not  drowned,  Stephano?  I  hope,  now,  thou  art 
not  drowned.  Is  the  storm  overblown  ?  I  hid  me  under 
the  dead  moon-calf's  gaberdine  for  fear  of  the  storm.  And 
art  thou  living,  Stephano?  O  Stephano,  two  Neapolitans 
scaped?  '02 

Stephano.  Prithee,  do  not  turn  me  about;  my  stomach  is 
not  constant. 

Caliban.  These  be  fine  things,  an  if  they  be  not  sprites. 
That 's  a  brave  god,  and  bears  celestial  liquor; 
I  will  kneel  to  him. 

Stephano.  How  didst  thou  scape  ?  How  camest  thou  hith- 
er? swear,  by  this  bottle,  how  thou  camest  hither.    I  escaped 


ACT  II.     SCENE   II.  69 

upon  a  butt  of  sack,  which  the  sailors  heaved  o'erboard,  by 
this  bottle  ! — which  I  made  of  the  bark  of  a  tree  with  mine 
own  hands,  since  I  was  cast  ashore.  "2 

Caliban.  I  '11  swear,  upon  that  bottle,  to  be  thy  true  subject ; 
For  the  liquor  is  not  earthly. 

Stephano.   Here  ;  swear,  then,  how  thou  escapedst. 

Trinculo.  Swam  ashore,  man,  like  a  duck;  I  can  swim  like 
a  duck,  I  '11  be  sworn. 

Stephano.  Here,  kiss  the  book.  Though  thou  canst  swim 
like  a  duck,  thou  art  made  like  a  goose. 

Trinculo.  O  Stephano,  hast  any  more  of  this  ?  120 

Stephano.  The  whole  butt,  man  ;  my  cellar  is  in  a  rock  by 
the  sea-side,  where  my  wine  is  hid. — How  now,  moon-calf! 
how  does  thine  ague  ? 

Caliban.   Hast  thou  not  dropped  from  heaven  ? 

Stephano.  Out  o'  the  moon,  I  do  assure  thee  ;  I  was  the 
man  i'  the  moon  when  time  was. 

Caliban.  I  have  seen  thee  in  her,  and  I  do  adore  thee; 
My  mistress  show'd  me  thee,  and  thy  dog,  and  thy  bush. 

Stephano.  Come,  swear  to  that ;  kiss  the  book ;  I  will  fur- 
nish it  anon  with  new  contents  ;  swear.  130 

Trinculo.  By  this  good  light,  this  is  a  very  shallow  monster  ! 
— I  afeard  of  him  ! — A  very  weak  monster ! — The  man  i'  the 
moon ! — A  most  poor  credulous  monster  ! — Well  drawn,  mon- 
ster, in  good  sooth  ! 

Caliban.  I  '11  show  thee  every  fertile  inch  o'  the  island; 
And  I  will  kiss  thy  foot.     I  prithee,  be  my  god. 

Trinculo.  By  this  light, a  most  perfidious  and  drunken  mon- 
ster !     When  's  god  's  asleep,  he  '11  rob  his  bottle. 

Caliban.  I  '11  kiss  thy  foot ;  I  '11  swear  myself  thy  subject. 

Stephano.  Come  on,  then  ;  down,  and  swear.  140 

Trinculo.  I  shall  laugh  myself  to  death  at  this  puppy-head- 
ed monster.  A  most  scurvy  monster !  I  could  find  in  my 
heart  to  beat  him, — 

Stephano.   Come,  kiss. 


70  THE    TEMPEST. 

Trincido.  But  that  the  poor  monster's  in  drink.    An  abom- 
inable monster ! 

Caliban.  I  '11  show  thee  the  best  springs  ;  I  '11  pluck  thee 
berries  ; 
I  '11  fish  for  thee,  and  get  thee  wood  enough. 
A  plague  upon  the  tyrant  that  I  serve ! 

I  '11  bear  him  no  more  sticks,  but  follow  thee,  150 

Thou  wondrous  man. 

Trinculo.  A  most  ridiculous  monster,  to  make  a  wonder  of 
a  poor  drunkard  ! 

Caliban.  I  prithee,  Ipt  me  bring  thee  where  crabs  grow ; 
And  1  with  my  long  nails  will  dig  thee  pig-nuts. 
Show  thee  a  jay's  nest,  and  instruct  thee  how 
To  snare  the  nimble  marmoset.     I  '11  bring  thee 
To  clustering  filberts  \  and  sometimes  I  '11  get  thee 
YoDng  scamels  from  the  rock.     Wilt  thou  go  with  me? 

Stephano.  I  prithee  now,  lead  the  way  without  any  more 
talking. — Trinculo,  the  king  and  all  our  company  else  being 
drowned,  we  will  inherit  here. — Here,  bear  my  bottle. — Fel- 
low Trinculo,  we  '11  fill  him  by  and  by  again.  163 
Caliban.  \Sings  drtinkenl}'\  Farewell, master;  farewell,  fare- 
well I 
Trinculo.  A  howling  monster ;  a  drunken  monster  ! 
Caliban.  No  more  da?ns  I  'II  make  for  Jish  ; 
Nor  fetch  in  firitig 
At  requiring  ; 
Nor  scrape  trenchering,  nor  wash  dish  : 

^  Ban,  'Ban,  Ca-caliban  170 

Has  a  new  master  : — get  a  new  man. 
Freedom,  hey-day !  hey-day,  freedom  !  freedom,  hey-day,  free- 
dom ! 

Stephano.  O  brave  monster  !     Lead  the  way.         [^Exeunt. 


ACT  III. 
Scene  I.     Before  Prospero's  Cell. 
Enter  Ferdinand,  bearing  a  log. 

Ferdinand.  There  be  some  sports  are  painful,  and  their 
labour 
Deh'ght  in  them  sets  off;  some  kinds  of  baseness 
Are  nobly  undergone,  and  most  poor  matters 


72 


THE    TEMPEST. 


Point  to  rich  ends.     This  my  mean  task 

"Would  be  as  heavy  to  me  as  odious,  but 

The  mistress  which  I  serve  quickens  what  's  dead, 

And  makes  my  labours  pleasures.     O,  she  is 

Ten  times  more  gentle  than  her  father  's  crabbed, 

And  he  's  composed  of  harshness!     I  must  remove 

Some  thousands  of  these  logs,  and  pile  them  up,  lo 

Upon  a  sore  injunction.     My  sweet  mistress 

Weeps  when  she  sees  me  work,  and  says  such  baseness 

Had  never  hke  executor.     I  forget ; 

But  these  sweet  thoughts  do  even  refresh  my  labours, 

Most  busy,  least  when  I  do  it. 

Enter  Miranda,  and  Prospero  at  a  distance. 

Miranda.  Alas  !  now,  pray  you, 

Work  not  so  hard  ;  I  would  the  lightning  had 
Burnt  up  those  logs  that  you  are  enjoin'd  to  pile  ! 
Pray,  set  it  down,  and  rest  you  ;  when  this  burns, 
'T  will  weep  for  having  wearied  you.     My  father 
Is  hard  at  study  ;  pray,  now,  rest  yourself ;  *o 

He  's  safe  for  these  three  hours. 

Ferdinand.  O  most  dear  mistress, 

The  sun  will  set  before  I  shall  discharge 
What  I  must  strive  to  do. 

MiraJida.  If  you  'II  sit  down, 

I  '11  bear  your  logs  the  while.     Pray,  give  me  that ; 
I  '11  carry  it  to  the  pile. 

Ferdinand.  No,  precious  creature; 

I  had  rather  crack  my  sinews,  break  my  back, 
Than  you  should  such  dishonour  undergo. 
While  I  sit  lazy  by. 

Miranda.  It  would  become  me 

As  well  as  it  does  you  ;  and  I  should  do  it 
With  much  more  ease,  for  my  good  will  is  to  it,  30 

And  yours  it  is  against. 


ACT  III.    SCENE  I. 


73 


Prospero.  Poor  worm,  thou  art  infected  ! 

This  visitation  shows  it. 

Miranda.  You  look  wearily. 

Ferdinand.  No, noble  mistress;  't  is  fresh  morning  with  me 
When  you  are  by  at  night.     I  do  beseech  you, — 
Chiefly  that  I  might  set  it  in  my  prayers, — 
What  is  your  name? 

Miranda.  Miranda. — O  my  father, 

I  have  broken  your  hest  to  say  so  ! 

Ferdinand.  Admir'd  Miranda ! 

Indeed  the  top  of  admiration,  worth 
What 's  dearest  to  the  world  !     Full  many  a  lady 
I  have  eyed  with  best  regard,  and  many  a  time  40 

The  harmony  of  their  tongues  hath  into  bondage 
Brought  my  too  diligent  ear.     For  several  virtues 
Have  I  lik'd  several  women,  never  any 
With  so  full  soul  but  some  defect  in  her 
Did  quarrel  with  the  noblest  grace  she  owed. 
And  put  it  to  the  foil ;  but  you,  O  you, 
So  perfect  and  so  peerless,  are  created 
Of  every  creature's  best ! 

Miranda.  Idonotknow 

One  of  my  sex,  no  woman's  face  remember. 
Save,  from  my  glass,  mine  own  ;  nor  have  I  seen  50 

More  that  1  may  call  men  than  you,  good  friend, 
And  my  dear  father.     How  features  are  abroad, 
I  am  skilless  of;  but,  by  my  modesty. 
The  jewel  in  my  dower,  I  would  not  wish 
Any  companion  in  the  world  but  you; 
Nor  can  imagination  form  a  shape, 
Besides  yourself,  to  like  of — But  I  prattle 
Something  too  wildly,  and  my  father's  precepts 
I  therein  do  forget. 

Ferdinand.  I  am,  in  my  condition, 

A  prince,  Miranda  ;  I  do  think,  a  king; —  60 


74 


THE    TEMPEST. 


I  would,  not  so  ! — and  would  no  more  endure 

This  wooden  slavery  than  to  suffer 

The  flesh-fly  blow  my  mouth.     Hear  my  soul  speak : 

The  very  instant  that  I  saw  you,  did 

My  heart  fly  to  your  service  ;  there  resides, 

To  make  me  slave  to  it ;  and  for  your  sake 

Am  I  this  patient  log-man. 

Miranda.  Do  you  love  me  ? 

Ferdinand.  O    heaven !    O   earth !    bear    witness   to   this 
sound. 
And  crown  what  I  profpss  with  kind  event, 
If  I  speak  true  ;  if  hollowly,  invert  7° 

What  best  is  boded  me  to  mischief!     I, 
Beyond  all  limit  of  what  else  i'  the  world, 
Do  love,  prize,  honour  you. 

Miranda.  I  am  a  fool 

To  weep  at  what  I  am  glad  of. 

Prospero.  Fair  encounter 

Of  two  most  rare  affections!     Heavens  rain  grace 
On  that  which  breeds  between  'em  ! 

Ferdinand.  Wherefore  weep  you  ? 

Aliratida.  At  mine  unworthiness,  that  dare  not  offer 
What  I  desire  to  give,  and  much  less  take 
What  I  shall  die  to  want.     But  this  is  trifling ; 
And  all  the  more  it  seeks  to  hide  itself,  80 

The  bigger  bulk  it  shows.     Hence,  bashful  cunning ! 
And  prompt  me,  plain  and  holy  innocence  ! 
I  am  your  wife,  if  you  will  marry  me  ; 
If  not,  I  '11  die  your  maid  :  to  be  your  fellow 
You  may  deny  me,  but  I  '11  be  your  servant, 
Whether  you  will  or  no. 

Ferdinand.  My  mistress,  dearest, 

And  I  thus  humble  ever. 

Miranda.  My  husband,  then  ? 

Ferdinand.  Ay,  with  a  heart  as  willing 
As  bondage  e'er  of  freedom  ;  here  's  my  hand. 


ACT  III.     SCENE  II. 


75 


Miranda.  And  mitie,  with  my  heart  in  't ;  and  now  farewell 
Till  half  an  hour  hence. 

Ferdinand.  A  thousand  thousand !  91 

YExeunt  Ferdinand  and  Miranda. 

Prospero.  So  glad  of  this  as  they  I  cannot  be, 
Who  are  surpris'd  with  all;  but  my  rejoicing 
At  nothing  can  be  more.     I  '11  to  my  book, 
For  yet  ere  supper-time  must  I  perform 
Much  business  appertaining.  \Exit. 

Scene  II.     Another  Part  of  the  Island. 
Enter  Caliban,  Stephano,  aiid  Trinculo. 

Stephano.  Tell  not  me  : — when  the  butt  is  out,  we  will 
drink  water ;  not  a  drop  before  :  therefore  bear  up,  and 
board  'em. — Servant-monster,  drink  to  me. 

Trinculo.  Servant-monster  !  the  folly  of  this  island  !  They 
say  there  's  but  five  upon  this  isle  :  we  are  three  of  them  ;  if 
th'  other  two  be  brained  like  us,  the  State  totters. 

Stephano.  Drink,  servant-monster,  when  I  bid  thee  ;  thy 
eyes  are  almost  set  in  thy  head. 

Trinculo.  Where  should  they  be  set  else .''  he  were  a  brave 
monster  indeed,  if  they  were  set  in  his  tail.  10 

Stephano.  My  man-monster  hath  drowned  his  tongue  in  sack : 
for  my  part,  the  sea  cannot  drown  me  ;  I  swam,  ere  I  could 
recover  the  shore,  five-and-thirty  leagues  off  and  on,  by  this 
light ! — Thou  shalt  be  my  lieutenant,  monster,  or  my  standard. 

Trinculo.  Your  lieutenant,  if  you  list ;  he  's  no  standard. 

Stephano.  We  '11  not  run,  Monsieur  Monster. 

Trinculo.  Nor  go  neither  ;  but  you  '11  lie,  like  dogs,  and  yet 
say  nothing  neither. 

Stephano.  Moon-calf,  speak  once  in  thy  life,  if  thou  bcest 
a  good  moon-calf  20 

Caliban.  How  does  thy  honour?  Let  me  lick  thy  shoe. 
I  '11  not  serve  him,  he  is  not  valiant. 


^5  THE    TEMPEST. 

Trinculo.  Thou  liest,  most  ignorant  monster;  I  am  in  case 
to  justle  a  constable.  Why,  thou  deboshed  fish,  thou,  was 
there  ever  man  a  coward  that  hath  drunk  so  much  sack  as  I 
to-day?  Wilt  thou  tell  a  monstrous  lie,  being  but  half  a  fish 
and  half  a  monster  ? 

Caliban.  Lo,  how  he  mocks  me  !  wilt  thou  let  him,  my  lord  ? 

Trinculo.  Lord,  quoth  he  !— That  a  monster  should  be  such 
a  natural !  30 

Caliban.  Lo,  lo,  again  !  bite  him  to  death,  I  prithee. 

Stephana.  Trinculo,  keep  a  good  tongue  in  your  head  ;  if 
you  prove  a  mutineer,— the  next  tree !  The  poor  monster  's 
my  subject,  and  he  shall  not  suffer  indignity. 

Caliban.  I  thank  my  noble  lord.     Wilt  thou  be  pleas'd 
To  hearken  once  again  to  the  suit  I  made  to  thee  ? 

Stephana.  Marry,  will  I :  kneel  and  repeat  it  ;  I  will  stand,, 
and  so  shall  Trinculo. 

Enter  Ariel,  invisible. 

Caliban.  As  I  told  thee  before,  I  am  subject  to  a  tyrant, 
A  sorcerer,  that  by  his  cunning  hath  cheated  me  40 

Of  the  island. 

Ariel.  Thou  liest. 

Calibafi.  Thou  liest,  thou  jesting  monkey,  thou  ; 

I  would  my  valiant  master  would  destroy  thee ! 
I  do  not  lie. 

Stephana.  Trinculo,  if  you  trouble  him  any  more  in  's  tale, 
by  this  hand,  I  will  supplant  some  of  your  teeth. 

Trinculo.  Why,  I  said  nothing. 

Stephana.  Mum,  then,  and  no  more. — Proceed. 

Caliban.  I  say,  by  sorcery  he  got  this  isle  ; 
From  me  he  got  it.     If  thy  greatness  will,  s° 

Revenge  it  on  him,  for  I  know  thou  dar'st, 
But  this  thing  dare  not. 

Stephana.  That  's  most  certain. 

Caliban.  Thou  shalt  be  lord  of  it,  and  I  '11  serve  thee. 


ACT  I  If.     SCENE   II. 


77 


Stephana.  How  now  shall  this  be  compass'd  ?  Canst  thou 
bring  me  to  the  party? 

Caliban.  Yea,  yea,  my  lord  ;  I  '11  yield  him  thee  asleep. 
Where  thou  mayst  knock  a  nail  into  his  head. 

Ariel.  Thou  liest ;  thou  canst  not. 

Caliban.  What  a  pied  ninny  's  this  !  Thou  scurvy  patch  ! — 
I  do  beseech  thy  greatness,  give  him  blows,  6i 

And  take  his  bottle  from  him  :  when  that 's  gone, 
He  shall  drink  nought  but  brine  ;  for  I  '11  not  show  him 
Where  the  quick  freshes  are. 

Stephano.  Trinculo,  run  into  no  further  danger;  interrupt 
the  monster  one  word  further,  and,  by  this  hand,  I  '11  turn  my 
mercy  out  o'  doors,  and  make  a  stock-fish  of  thee. 

Trinculo.  Why,  what  did  I  ?  I  did  nothing.  I  '11  go  farther 
off. 

Stephano.  Didst  thou  not  say  he  lied  .''  70 

Ariel.  Thou  liest. 

Stephano.  Do  I  so  ?  take  thou  that.  \^Beats  him^  As  you 
like  this,  give  me  the  lie  another  time. 

Trinculo.  I  did  not  give  the  lie.  Out  o'  your  wits,  and 
hearing  too  i" — A  pox  o'  your  bottle  !  this  can  sack  and  drink- 
ing do. — A  murrain  on  your  monster,  and  the  devil  take  your 
fingers ! 

Caliban.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Stephano.  Now,  forward  with  your  tale. — Prithee,  stand  far- 
ther off.  80 

Caliban.  Beat  him  enough  ;  after  a  little  time, 
I  '11  beat  him  too. 

Stephano.  Stand  fiirther. — Come,  proceed. 

Caliban.  Why,  as  I  told  thee,  't  is  a  custom  with  him 
r  the  afternoon  to  sleep;  there  thou  mayst  brain  him. 
Having  first  seiz'd  his  books,  or  with  a  log 
Batter  his  skull,  or  paunch  him  with  a  stake. 
Or  cut  his  wezand  with  thy  knife.     Remember 
First  to  possess  his  books,  for  without  them 


7 8  THE    TEMPEST. 

He  's  but  a  sot,  as  I  am,  nor  hath  not 

One  spirit  to  command  ;  they  all  do  hate  him  90 

As  rootedly  as  I.     Burn  but  his  books. 

He  has  brave  utensils, — for  so  he  calls  them, — 

Which,  when  he  has  a  house,  he  '11  deck  withal. 

And  that  most  deeply  to  consider  is 

The  beauty  of  his  daughter.     He  himself 

Calls  her  a  nonpareil :  I  never  saw  a  woman, 

But  only  Sycorax  my  dam  and  she  ; 

But  she  as  far  surpasseth  Sycorax 

As  great'st  does  least. . 

Stephana.  Is  it  so  brave  a  lass  ? 

Caliban.   Ay,  lord  ;  she  will  become  thy  bed,  I  warrant, 
And  bring  thee  forth  brave  brood.  lot 

Stephano.  Monster,  I  will  kill  this  man  ;  his  daughter  and 
I  will  be  king  and  queen, — save  our  graces! — and  Trinculo 
and  thyself  shall  be  viceroys.  Dost  thou  like  the  plot,  Trin- 
culo? 

Trinculo.  Excellent. 

Stephano.  Give  me  thy  hand :  I  am  sorry  I  beat  thee  ;  but, 
while  thou  livest,  keep  a  good  tongue  in  thy  head. 

Caliban.  Within  this  half  hour  will  he  be  asleep; 
Wilt  thou  destroy  him  then  ? 

Stephano.  Ay,  on  mine  honour.  no 

Ariel.  This  will  I  tell  my  master. 

Caliban.  Thou  mak'st  me  merry;  I  am  full  of  pleasure. 
Let  us  be  jocund  ;  will  you  troll  the  catch 
You  taught  me  but  while-ere  ? 

Stephafto.  At  thy  request,  monster,  I  will  do  reason,  any 
reason. — Come  on,  Trinculo,  let  us  sing.  [Sings. 

Flout  'em  and  scout  'em.,  and  scout  'em  andfiout  'em  ; 
Thought  is  free. 

Caliban.  That 's  not  the  tune. 

\_Ariel  plays  the  tune  on  a  tabor  and  pipe. 


ACT  III.     SCENE  I/I. 


79 


Stephano.  What  is  this  same  ?  120 

Trmculo.  This  is  the  tune  of  our  catch,  played  by  the  pict- 
ure of  Nobody. 

Stephano.  If  thou  beest  a  man,  show  thyself  in  thy  like- 
ness ;  if  thou  beest  a  devil,  take  't  as  thou  list. 

Trinculo.  O,  forgive  me  my  sins  ! 

Stephano.  He  that  dies  pays  all  debts ;  I  defy  thee. — Mercy 
upon  us ! 

Caliban.  Art  thou  afeard  ? 

Stephano.  No,  monster,  not  I. 

Caliban.   Be  not  afeard  ;  the  isle  is  full  of  noises,  130 

Sounds  and  sweet  airs,  that  give  delight  and  hurt  not. 
Sometimes  a  thousand  twanglihg  instruments 
Will  hum  about  mine  ears  ;  and  sometimes  voices, 
That,  if  I  then  had  wak'd  after  long  sleep. 
Will  make  me  sleep  again  :  and  then,  in  dreaming, 
The  clouds  methought  would  open,  and  show  riches 
Ready  to  drop  upon  me  ;  that,  when  I  wak'd, 
I  cried  to  dream  again. 

Stephano.  This  will  prove  a  brave  kingdom  to  me,  where  I 
shall  have  my  music  for  nothing.  140 

Caliban.  When  Prospero  is  destroy 'd. 

Stephano.  That  shall  be  by  and  by;  I  remember  the  story. 

Trinculo.  The  sound  is  going  away;  let  's  follow  it,  and 
after  do  our  work. 

Stephano.  Lead,  monster ;  we  '11  follow. — I  would  I  could 
see  this  taborer  :  he  lays  it  on. 

Irinctilo.  Wilt  come  ?     I  '11  follow,  Stephano.        \^Exeunt. 

Scene  III.     Another  Part  of  the  Island. 

Enter  Alonso,  Sebastian,  Antonio,  Gonzalo,  Adrian, 
Francisco,  and  others. 

Gonzalo.  By  'r  lakin,  I  can  go  no  further,  sir; 
My  old. bones  ache:  here  's  a  maze  trod,  indeed, 


8o  THE    TEMPEST. 

Through  forthrights  and  meanders  !     By  your  patience, 
I  needs  must  rest  me. 

Alonso.  Old  lord,  I  cannot  blame  thee, 

Who  am  myself  attach'd  with  weariness, 
To  the  dulling  of  my  spirits  ;  sit  down,  and  rest. 
Even  here  I  will  put  off  my  hope,  and  keep  it 
No  longer  for  my  flatterer ;  he  is  drown'd 
Whom  thus  we  stray  to  find,  and  the  sea  mocks 
Our  frustrate  search  on  land.     Well,  let  him  go.  ic 

Afitonio.  [As/iic  to  Sebastian]  I  am  right  glad  that  he  's  so 
out  of  hope. 
Do  not,  for  one  repulse,  forego  the  purpose 
That  you  resolv'd  to  effect. 

Sebastian.  [Asi^/e  to  Antonio']  The  next  advantage 
Will  we  take  throughly. 

Antonio.  [Aside  to  Sebastian']  Let  it  be  to-night ; 
For,  now  they  are  oppress'd  with  travel,  they 
Will  not,  nor  cannot,  use  such  vigilance 
As  when  they  are  fresh. 

Sebastian.  [Aside  to  Antonio]  I  say,  to-night ;  no  more. 

[Solemn  and  strange  music. 

Alonso.  What  harmony  is  this  ? — My  good  friends,  hark  ! 

Gonzalo.  Marvellous  sweet  music  ! 

Enter  Prospero  above,  invisible.  Enter  se^'eral  strange  Shapes, 
bringing  in  a  banquet :  they  dance  about  it  with  gentle  actions 
of  salutation  ;  and,  inviting  the  King,  etc.  to  eat,  they  depart. 

Alonso.  Give  us  kind  keepers,  heavens ! — What  were  these  ? 

Sebastian.   A  living  drollery.     Now  I  will  believe  21 

That  there  are  unicorns  ;  that  in  Arabia 
There  is  one  tree,  the  phoenix'  throne,  one  phoenix 
At  this  hour  reigning  there. 

Antonio.  I  '11  believe  both  ; 

And  what  does  else  want  credit,  come  to  me. 
And  I  '11  be  sworn  't  is  true  ;  travellers  ne'er  did  lie, 
Though  fools  at  home  condemn  'em. 


ACT  III.    SCENE  III.  8 1 

Gonzalo.  If  in  Naples 

I  should  report  this  now,  would  they  believe  me? 
If  I  should  say  I  saw  such  islanders, — 
For,  certes,  these  are  people  of  the  island, —  3° 

Who,  though  they  are  of  monstrous  shape,  yet,  note, 
Their  manners  are  more  gentle-kind  than  of 
Our  human  generation  you  shall  find 
Many,  nay,  almost  any. 

Prospero.  [Aside]  Honest  lord. 

Thou  hast  said  well  ;  for  some  of  you  there  present 
Are  worse  than  devils. 

Alo7iso.  I  cannot  too  much  muse 

Such  shapes,  such  gesture,  and  such  sound,  expressing — • 
Although  they  want  the  use  of  tongue — a  kind 
Of  excellent  dumb  discourse. 

Prospero.  [Aside]  Praise  in  departing. 

Prana'sco.  They  vanish'd  strangely. 

Sebastiafi.  No  matter,  since    4° 

They  have  left  their  viands  behind  ;  for  we  have  stomachs. — 
Will  't  please  you  taste  of  what  is  here  ? 

Alonso.  Not  I. 

Gonzalo.  Faith,  sir, you  need  not  fear.   When  we  were  boys, 
Who  would  believe  that  there  were  mountaineers 
Dew-lapp'd  like  bulls,  whose  throats  had  hanging  at  'em 
Wallets  of  flesh?  or  that  there  were  such  men 
Whose  heads  stood  in  their  breasts?  which  now  we  find 
Each  putter-out  of  five  for  one  will  bring  us 
Good  warrant  of. 

Alonso.  I  will  stand  to  and  feed, 

Although  my  last ;  no  matter,  since  I  feel  s^ 

The  best  is  past. — Brother,  my  lord  the  duke, 
Stand  to,  and  do  as  we. 
Thunder  and  liglifnin;:;.     pnter  Artel,  like  a  harpy,  claps  his 

wings  upon  the  table,  and  with  a  quaint  dei'ice  the  banquet 

vanishes. 

F 


82  '^HE    TEMPEST. 

Ariel.  Y(JLi  are  three  men  of  sin,  whom  destiny, — 
That  hath  to  instrument  this  lower  world 
And  what  is  in  't, — the  never-surfeited  sea 
Hath  caus'd  to  belch  up  you  ;  and  on  this  island, 
Where  man  doth  not  inhabit, — you  'mongst  men 
Being  most  unfit  to  live.     I  have  made  you  mad  ; 
And  even  with  such-like  valour  men  hang  and  drown 
Their  proper  selves.  \Alonso^  Sebastian,  etc.,  dtaiv  their  swords. 
You  fools  !     1  and  my  fellows  60 

Are  ministers  of  Fate  ;  the  elements, 
Of  whom  your  svvord^  are  temper'd,  inay  as  well 
^Vound  the  loud  winds,  or  with  bemock'd-at  stabs 
Kill  the  still-closing  waters,  as  diminish 
One  dowle  that  's  in  my  plume.     My  fellow-ministers 
Are  like  invulnerable.      If  you  could  hurt, 
Your  swords  are  now  too  massy  for  your  strengths, 
And  will  not  be  uplifted.     But  remember, — 
For  that  's  my  business  to  you, — that  you  three, 
From  Milan  did  supplant  good  Prospero,  70 

Expos'd  unto  the  sea,  which  hath  requit  it, 
Him  and  his  innocent  child  ;  for  which  foul  deed 
The  powers,  delaying,  not  forgetting,  have 
Incens'd  the  seas  and  shores,  yea,  all  the  creatures, 
Against  your  peace.     Thee  of  thy  son,  Alonso, 
They  have  bereft,  and  do  pronounce  by  me, 
Lingering  perdition — worse  than  any  death 
Can  be  at  once — shall  step  by  step  attend 
You  and  your  ways  ;  whose  wraths  to  guard  you  from, — 
Which  here,  in  this  most  desolate  isle,  else  falls  %o 

Upon  your  heads, — is  nothing  but  heart's  sorrow. 
And  a  clear  life  ensuing. 

He  vanishes  in  thunder;  then,  to  soft  music,  enter  the  Shapes 
again,  and  dance  with  mocks  and  mows,  and  carry  out  the 
table. 


ACT  in.    SCENE  in.  83 

Prospero.  [AsiWe]  Bravely  the  figure  of  this  harpy  hast  thou 
Perform'd,  my  Ariel  ;  a  grace  it  had,  devouring. 
Of  my  instruction  hast  thou  nothing  bated 
In  what  thou  hadst  to  say;  so,  with  good  life 
And  observation  strange,  my  meaner  ministers 
Their  several  kinds  have  done.      My  high  charms  work, 
And  these  mine  enemies  are  all  knit  up 

In  their  distractions:  they  now  are  in  my  power;  90 

And  in  these  fits  I  leave  them,  while  I  visit 
Young  Ferdinand — whom  they  suppose  is  drown'd — 
And  his  and  mine  lov'd  darling.  l£xif  above. 

Gofizalo.  r  the  name  of  something  holy,  sir,  why  stand  you 
In  this  strange  stare? 

Alonso.  O,  it  is  monstrous,  monstrous  ! 

Methought  the  billows  spoke,  and  told  me  of  it; 
The  winds  did  sing  it  to  me,  and  the  thunder. 
That  deep  and  dreadful  organ-pipe,  pronounc'd 
The  name  of  Prosper:  it  did  bass  my  trespass. 
Therefore  my  son  i'  the  ooze  is  bedded  ;  and  100 

I  '11  seek  him  deeper  than  e'er  plummet  sounded. 
And  with  him  there  lie  mudded.  \^Exit. 

Sebastian.  But  one  fiend  at  a  time, 

I  '11  fight  their  legions  o'er. 

Antonio.  I  '11  be  thy  second. 

[^Exennt  Sebastian  and  Antonio. 

Gonzalo.  All  three  of  them  are  desperate  ;  their  great  guilt, 
Like  poison  given  to  work  a  great  time  after. 
Now  gins  to  bite  the  spirits. — I  do  beseech  you 
That  are  of  suppler  joints,  follow  them  swiftly, 
And  hinder  them  from  what  this  ecstasy 
May  now  provoke  them  to. 

Adrian.  Follow,  I  pray  you.         [Exeunt, 


>^. 


ACT   IV. 

Scene  I.     Before  Prosperous  Cell. 
Enter  Prospero,  Ferdinand,  and  Miranda. 
Prospero.  If  I  have  too  austerely  punish'd  you, 
Your  compensation  makes  amends,  for  i 
Have  given  you  here  a  thread  of  mme  own  hfe, 


ACT  IV.     SCENE  I. 

Or  that  for  which  I  live;  who  once  again 

I  tender  to  thy  hand.     All  thy  vexations 

Were  but  my  trials  of  thy  love,  and  thou 

Hast  strangely  stood  the  test ;  here,  afore  heaven, 

I  ratify  this  my  rich  gift.     O  Ferdinand, 

Do  not  smile  at  me  that  I  boast  her  off. 

For  thou  shalt  find  she  will  outstrip  all  praise. 

And  make  it  halt  behind  her. 

Ferdinand.  I  do  believe  it 

Against  an  oracle. 

Prospero.  Then,  as  my  gift  and  thine  own  acquisition 
Worthily  purchas'd,  take  my  daughter :  but 
If  thou  dost  break  her  virgin-knot  before 
All  sanctimonious  ceremonies  may 
With  full  and  holy  rite  be  minister'd. 
No  sweet  aspersion  shall  the  heavens  let  fall 
'I"o  make  this  contract  grow  ;  but  barren  hate, 
Sour-eyed  disdain,  and  discord  shall  bestrew 
The  union  of  your  bed  with  weeds  so  loathly 
That  you  shall  hate  it  both  :  therefore,  take  heed, 
As  Hymen's  lamps  shall  light  you. 

Ferdinand.  As  I  hope 

For  quiet  days,  fair  issue,  and  long  life. 
With  such  love  as  't  is  now,  the  murkiest  den, 
The  most  opportune  place,  the  strong'st  suggestion 
Our  worser  genius  can,  shall  nev^er  melt 
Mine  honour  into  lust,  to  take  away 
The  edge  of  that  day's  celebration 
When  I  shall  think,  or  Phoebus'  steeds  are  founder'd, 
Or  night  kept  chain'd  below. 

Prospero.  Fairly  spoke. 

Sit  then  and  talk  with  her  ;  she  is  thine  own. — 
What,  Ariel!  my  industrious  servant,  Ariel ! 


86  THE    TEMPEST. 

Enter  Ariel. 

Ariel.  What  would  my  potent  master?  here  I  am. 

Prospero.  Thou  and  thy  meaner  fellows  your  last  service 
Did  worthily  perform,  and  I  must  use  you 
In  such  another  trick.     Go  bring  the  rabble, 
O'er  whom  I  give  thee  power,  here  to  this  place. 
Incite  them  to  quick  motion,  for  I  must 
Bestow  upon  the  eyes  of  this  young  couple  4° 

Some  vanity  of  mine  art ;  it  is  my  promise, 
And  they  expect  it  from  me. 

Ariel.  Presently? 

Prospero.   Ay,  with  a  twink, 

Ariel.       Before  you  can  say  'come'  and  'go,' 
And  breathe  twice,  and  cry  '  so,  so,' 
Each  one,  tripping  on  his  toe. 
Will  be  here  with  mop  and  mow. — 
Do  you  love  me,  master?  no? 

Prospero.  Dearly,  my  delicate  Ariel.     Do  not  approach 
Till  thou  dost  hear  me  call. 

Ariel.  Well,  I  conceive.  \_Exit. 

Prospero.  Look  thou  be  true ;  do  not  give  dalliance         s' 
Too  much  the  rein  :  the  strongest  oaths  are  straw 
To  the  fire  i'  the  blood  ;  be  more  abstemious, 
Or  else  good  night  your  vow ! 

Ferdinand.  I  warrant  you,  sir; 

The  white-cold  virgin  snow  upon  my  heart 
Abates  the  ardour  of  my  liver. 

Prospero.  Well. — 

Now  come,  my  Ariel !  bring  a  corollary. 
Rather  than  want  a  spirit  \  appear,  and  pertly! — 
No  tongue  !  all  eyes  !  be  silent.  \_Soft  music. 

Enter  Iris. 
Iris.  Ceres,  most  bounteous  lady,  thy  rich  leas  60 


ACT  IV.     SCENE  I.  87 

Of  wheat,  rye,  barley,  vetches,  oats,  and  pease  ; 

U'hy  turfy  mountains,  where  live  nibbhng  sheep, 

And  flat  meads  thatch'd  with  stover,  them  to  keep; 

'I'hy  banks  with  pioned  and  lilied  brims, 

Which  spongy  April  at  thy  best  betrims, 

To  make  cold  nymphs  chaste  crowns  ;  and  thy  broom  groves. 

Whose  shadow  the  dismissed  bachelor  loves, 

Being  lass-lorn  ;  thy  pole-clipt  vineyard; 

And  th}^  sea-marge,  sterile  and  rocky-hard, 

Where  thou  thyself  dost  air ; — the  queen  o'  the  sky,  7° 

Whose  watery  arch  and  messenger  am  I, 

Bids  thee  leave  these,  and  with  her  sovereign  grace, 

Here  on  this  grass-plot,  in  this  Very  place, 

To  come  and  sport.     Her  peacocks  fly  amain  ; 

Approach,  rich  Ceres,  her  to  entertain. 

Enter  Ceres. 

Ceres.  Hail,  tnany-colour'd  messenger,  that  ne'er 
Dost  disobey  the  wife  of  Jupiter; 
Who,  with  thy  saffron  wings,  upon  my  flowers 
Diffusest  honej'-drops,  refreshing  showers, 
And  with  each  end  of  thy  blue  bow  dost  crown  '     80 

My  bosky  acres  and  my  unshrubb'd  down, 
Rich  scarf  to  my  proud  earth  !     Why  hath  thy  queen 
Summon'd  me  hither,  to  this  short-grass'd  green  "i 

Iris.   A  contract  of  true  love  to  celebrate, 
And  some  donation  freely  to  estate 
Oh  the  blest  lovers. 

Ceres.  Tell  me,  heavenly  bow, 

If  Venus  or  her  son,  as  thou  dost  know, 
Do  now  attend  the  queen .-"     Since  they  did  plot 
The  means  that  dusky  Dis  my  daughter  got, 
Her  and  her  blind  boy's  scandal'd  company  90 

I  have  forsworn. 

Iris.  Of  her  society 


88  THE    TEMPEST. 

Be  not  afraid  ;  I  met  her  deity 

Cutting  the  clouds  towards  Paphos,  and  her  son 

Dove-drawn  with  her.     Here  thought  they  to  have  done 

Some  wanton  charm  upon  this  man  and  maid, 

Whose  vows  are,  that  no  bed-right  shall  be  paid 

Till  Hymen's  torch  be  lighted  :  but  in  vain  ; 

Mars's  hot  minion  is  return'd  again  ; 

Her  waspish-headed  son  has  broke  his  arrows, 

Swears  he  will  shoot  no  more,  but  play  with  sparrows,        loo 

And  be  a  boy  right  out. 

Ce7-es.  .      Highest  queen  of  state, 

Great  Juno  comes;  I  know  her  by  her  gait. 

Efiter  Juno. 

yujio.  How  does  my  bounteous  sister?     Go  with  me 
To  "bless  this  twain,  that  they  may  prosperous  be, 
And  honour'd  in  their  issue.  \They  sing. 

Juno.        Honour,  riches,  marriage-biessi7ig, 
Long  continuance,  and  ificj-easing, 
Hourly  Joys  be  still  upon  you  ! 
Jimo  sifigs  her  blessings  on  you. 
Ceres.       Earth^s  increase,  foison  plenty,  no 

Barns  and  garners  never  empty, 
Vines  with  clustering  bunches  growing, 
Plants  with  goodly  burthen  bowing; 
Spring  come  to  you  at  the  farthest 
In  the  very  end  of  harvest  f 
Scarcity  and  want  shall  slum  you  ; 
Ceres''  blessing  so  is  on  you. 
Ferdinand.  This  is  a  most  majestic  vision,  and 
Harmonious  charmingly.     May  I  be  bold 
To  think  these  spirits  ? 

Prospero.  Spirits,  which  by  mine  art  120 

I  have  from  their  confines  call'd  to  enact 
My  present  fancies. 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I.  89 

Ferdinand.  Let  me  live  here  ever  ; 

So  rare  a  wonder'd  father  and  a  wise 
Makes  this  place  Paradise. 

\_yuno  and  Ceres  whisper,  and  send  Iris  on  employment. 

Prospero.  Sweet  now,  silence  ! 

Juno  and  Ceres  whisper  seriously  ; 
There's  something  else  to  do  :  hush,  and  be  mute, 
Or  else  our  spell  is  marr'd. 

Iris.  You  nymphs,  call'd  Naiads,  of  the  winding  brooks, 
With  your  sedg'd  crowns  and  ever  harmless  looks. 
Leave  your  crisp  channels,  and  on  this  green  land  13° 

Answer  your  summons  ;  Juno  does  command. 
Come,  temperate  nymphs,  and  help  to  celebrate 
A  contract  of  true  love  \  be  not  too  late. — 

Enter  certain  Nymphs. 

•You  sunburnt  sicklemen,  of  August  weary, 
Come  hither  from  the  furrow,  and  be  merry. 
Make  holiday ;  your  rj-e-straw  hats  put  on, 
And  these  fresh  nymphs  encounter  every  one 
In  country  footing. 

Enter  certain  Reapers,  p7'ope7-ly  habited :  they  join  with  the 
Nymphs  in  a  graceful  dance  ;  towards  the  end  whereof  V'RO'i- 
PERO  starts  suddenly,  and  speaks  ;  after  which,  to  a  strange, 
hoUow,  and  confused  noise,  they  heavily  vanish. 
Prospero.   [Aside]  I  had  forgot  that  foul  conspiracy 

Of  the  beast  Caliban  and  his  confederates  mo 

Against  my  life  ;  the  minute  of  their  plot 

Is  almost  come. — [7b  the  Spirits]    Well  done!     Avoid;  no 
more  ! 
Ferdinand.  This  is  strange;  your  father's  in  some  passion 

That  works  him  strongly. 

Miranda.  Never  till  this  day 

Saw  I  him  touch'd  with  anger  so  distemper'd. 


fjo  THE    TEMPEST. 

Prospero.  You  do  look,  my  son,  in  a  mov'd  sort, 
As  if  you  were  dismay'd  ;  be  cheerful,  sir. 
Our  revels  now  are  ended.     These  our  actors, 
As  I  foretold  you,  were  all  spirits,  and 

Are  melted  into  air,  into  thin  air  ;  15° 

And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  this  vision, 
The  cloud-capp'd  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  this  insubstantial  pageant  faded, 
Leave  not  a  rack  behind.     We  are  such  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  on,  and  our  little_life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep. — Sir,  I  am  vex'd  ; 
Bear  with  my  weakness  ;  my  old  brain  is  troubled. 
Be  not  disturb'd  with  my  infirmity:  160 

If  you  be  pleas'd,  retire  into  my  cell 
And  there  repose;  a  turn  or  two  I  '11  walk, 
To  still  my  beating  mind. 

Ferdinand.  Aliranda.         We  wish  your  peace.      [Exeunt. 

Prospero.  Come  with  a  thought.    I  thank  thee,  Ariel:  come! 

Enter  Ariel. 

Ariel.  Thy  thoughts  I  cleave  to.     What 's  thy  pleasure  ? 

Prospero.  Spirit, 

We  must  prepare  to  meet  with  Caliban. 

Ariel.  Ay,  my  commander ;  when  I  presented  Ceres, 
I  thought  to  have  told  thee  of  it,  but  I  fear'd 
Lest  I  might  anger  thee.  '69 

Prospero.  Say  again,  where  didst  thou  leave  these  varlets? 

Ariel.  I  told  you,  sir,  they  were  red-hot  with  drinking ; 
So  full  of  valour  that  they  smote  the  air 
For  breathing  in  their  faces,  beat  the  ground 
For  kissing  of  their  feet,  yet  always  bending 
Towards  their  project.     Then  I  beat  my  tabor. 
At  which,  like  unback'd  colts,  they  prick'd  their  ears, 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I. 


91 


Advanc'd  their  eyelids,  lifted  up  their  noses 

As  they  smelt  music  ;  so  I  charm'd  their  ears 

That,  calf-like,  they  my  lowing  follow'd  through 

Tooth'd  briers,  sharp  furzes,  pricking  gorse,  and  thorns,      180 

Which  enter'd  their  frail  shins  :  at  last  I  left  them 

I'  the  filthy  mantled  pool  beyond  your  cell. 

There  dancing  up  to  the  chins,  that  the  foul  lake 

O'erstunk  their  feet. 

Prospcro.  This  was  well  done,  my  bird. 

Thy  shape  invisible  retain  thou  still ; 
The  trumpery  in  my  house,  go  bring  it  hither. 
For  stale  to  catch  these  thieves. 

Ariel.  I  gOj  I  gO-  \Exit. 

Prospero.  A  devil,  a  born  devil,  on  whose  nature 
Nurture  can  never  stick  ;  on  whom  my  pains. 
Humanely  taken,  all,  all  lost,  quite  lost ;  193 

And  as  with  age  his  body  uglier  grows. 
So  his  mind  cankers.     I  will  plague  them  all, 
Even  to  roaring.—  ^(JithW'^^-^'^^^ 

Enter  Ariel,  loaden  with  glistering  apparel,  etc. 
Come  hang  them  on  this  line. 

Prospero  and  Ariel  remain  i?ivisible.     Enter  C.-^liban, 
Stephano,  and  Trinculo,  all  wet. 

Caliban.  Pray  you,  tread  softly,  that  the  blind  mole  may 
not 
Hear  a  foot  fall ;  we  now  are  near  his  cell. 

Stephano.  Monster,  your  fairy,  which  you  say  is  a  harmless 
fairy,  has  done  little  better  than  played  the  Jack  with  us. — 
Do  you  hear,  monster  ?  If  I  should  take  a  displeasure  against 
you,  look  you, — 

Trinculo.   Thou  wert  but  a  lost  monster.  200 

Caliban.  Good  my  lord,  give  me  thy  favour  still. 
Be  patient,  for  the  prize  I  '11  bring  thee  to 


Q2  THE    TEMPEST. 

Shall  hoodwink  this  mischance;  therefore  speak  softly. 
All  's  hush'd  as  midnight  yet. 

Trinculo.  Ay,  but  to  lose  our  bottles  in  the  pool, — 

Stepha)w.  There   is   not  only  disgrace  and  dishonour   in 
that,  monster,  but  an  infinite  loss. 

Trinculo.  That 's  more  to  me  than  my  wetting;  yet  this  is 
your  harmless  fairy,  monster. 

Stephano.  I  will  fetch  off  my  bottle,  though  I  be  o'er  ears 
for  my  labour.  211 

Caliban.  Prithee,  my  king,  be  quiet.     Seest  thou  here, 
This  is  the  mouth  o'  the  cell ;  no  noise,  and  enter. 
Do  that  good  mischief  which  may  make  this  island 
Thine  own  for  ever,  and  I,  thy  Caliban, 
For  aye  thy  foot-licker. 

Stephano.  Give  me  thy  hand.  I  do  begin  to  have  bloody 
thoughts. 

Trinculo.  O  King  Stephano  !  O  peer  !  O  worthy  Stepha- 
no !  look  what  a  wardrobe  here  is  for  thee  !  220 

Caliban.  Let  it  alone,  thou  fool ;  it  is  but  trash. 

Trinculo.  O,  ho,  monster  !  we  know  what  belongs  to  a  frip- 
pery.— O  King  Stephano  ! 

Stephano.  Put  off  that  gown,  Trinculo  ;  by  this  hand,  I  '11 
have  that  gown. 

Trinculo.  Thy  grace  shall  have  it. 

Caliban.  The  dropsy  drown  this  fool !    What  do  you  mean. 
To  dote  thus  on  such  luggage?     Let  's  alone, 
And  do  the  murther  first;  if  he  awake. 

From  toe  to  crown  he  '11  fill  our  skins  with  pinches,  230 

Make  us  strange  stuff. 

Stephano.  Be  you  quiet,  monster. — Mistress  line,  is  not  this 
my  jerkin?  Now  is  the  jerkin  under  the  line;  now,  jerkin, 
you  are  like  to  lose  your  hair,  and  prove  a  bald  jerkin. 

Trinculo.  Do,  do  ;  we  steal  by  line  and  level,  an  't  like  your 
grace. 

Stephano.  I  thank  thee  for  that  jest ;  here  's  a  garment  for 't: 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I.  93 

wit  shall  not  go  unrewarded  while  I  am  king  of  this  country. 
'  Steal  by  line  and  level '  is  an  excellent  pass  of  pate ;  there  's 
another  garment  for  't.  240 

Triticulo.  Monster,  come,  put  some  lime  upon  your  fingers, 
and  away  with  the  rest. 

Caliban.  I  will  have  none  on  't ;  we  shall  lose  our  time, 
And  all  be  turn'd  to  barnacles,  or  to  apes 
^Vith  foreheads  villanous  low. 

Stcphano.  Monster,  lay  to  your  fingers  ;  help  to  bear  this 
away  where  my  hogshead  of  wine  is,  or  I  '11  turn  you  out  of 
my  kingdom  :  go  to,  carry  this. 

Trinculo.  And  this. 

Stephano.  Ay,  and  this.  250 

A  noise  of  hunters  heard.  Enter  divers  Spirits,  in  shape  of 
dogs  and  hounds,  and  hunt  them  about,  Prospero  a«rt!' Ariel 
setting  them  on. 

Prospero.   Hey,  Mountain,  h ey ! 
Ariel.   Silver  !  there  it  goes,  Silver  ! 

Prospero.  Fury,  Fury!  there,  Tyrant,  there  !  hark,  hark  ! — 
\CaHban,  Stephatio,  and  Trinculo  are  driven  out. 
Go  charge  my  goblins  that  they  grind  their  joints 
With  dry  convulsions,  shorten  up  their  sinews 
With  aged  cramps,  and  more  pinch-spotted  make  them 
Than  pard  or  cat  o'  mountain. 

Ariel.  Hark,  they  roar ! 

Prospero.  Let  them  be  hunted  soundly.     At  this  hour 
Lies  at  my  mercy  all  mine  enemies  ; 

Shortly  shall  all  my  labours  end,  and  thou  260 

Shalt  have  the  air  at  freedom.     For  a  little 
Follow,  and  do  me  service.  \_Exeunt. 


'  '  iiffiws^ 


■'V.i'':' ;i  ■' 


ACT  V. 

Scene  I.     Before  the  Cell  of  Prospero. 
Enter  Prospero  in  his  magic  robes,  and  Ariel. 
Prospero.  Now  does  my  project  gather  to  a  head  ; 
My  charms  crack  not,  my  spirits  obey,  and  Time 
Goes  upright  with  his  carriage.     How  's  the  day? 


ACT  V.     SCENE   I.  05 

Arid.  On  the  sixth  hour;  at  which  time,  my  lord, 
You  said  our  work  should  cease. 

Prospero.  I  did  say  so, 

When  first  I  rais'd  the  tempest.     Say,  my  spirit, 
How  fares  the  king  and  's  followers? 

Ariel.  Confin'd  together 

In  the  same  fashion  as  you  gave  in  charge, 
Just  as  you  left  them;  all  prisoners,  sir. 

In  the  line-grove  which  weather-fends  your  cell:  10 

'I'hey  cannot  budge  till  your  release.     The  king, 
His  brother,  and  yours,  abide  all  three  distracted, 
And  the  remainder  mourning  over  them. 
Brimful  of  sorrow  and  dismay;  .but  chiefly 
Him  that  you  term'd,  sir,  the  good  old  lord,  Gonzalo  : 
His  tears  run  down  his  beard,  like  winter's  drops 
From  eaves  of  reeds.     Your  charm  so  strongly  works  'em 
That  if  you  now  beheld  them,  your  ai'fections 
Would  become  lender. 

Prospero.  Dost  thou  ihiiik  so,  spirit? 

Ariel.  Mine  would,  sir,  were  I  human. 

Prospero.  And  mine  shall. 

Hast  thou,  which  art  but  air,  a  touch,  a  feeling  21 

Of  their  afflictions,  and  shall  not  myself, 
One  of  their  kind,  that  relish  all  as  sharply 
Passion  as  they,  be  kindlier  mov'd  than  thou  art? 
Though  vi'ith  their  high  wrongs  I  am  struck  to  the  quick, 
Yet  with  my  nobler  reason  'gainst  my  fury 
Do  I  take  part.     The  rarer  action  is 
In  virtue  than  in  vengeance;  they  being  penitent, 
The  sole  drift  of  my  purpose  doth  extend 
Not  a  frown  further.     Go  release  them,  Ariel ;  30 

My  charms  I  '11  break,  their  senses  I  '11  restore, 
And  they  shall  be  themselves. 

Ariel.  I 'It  fetch  them,  sir.      \F..xit. 

Prospero.   Ye   elves  of  hills,  brooks,  standing  lakes,  antl 
groves. 


96  THE  TEMPEST. 

And  ye  that  on  the  sands  with  printless  foot 

Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune,  and  do  fly  him 

When  he  comes  back ;  you  demi-puppets  that 

By  moonshine  do  the  green  sour  ringlets  make, 

Whereof  the  ewe  not  bites  ;  and  you  whose  pastime 

Is  to  make  midnight  mushrooms,  that  rejoice 

To  hear  the  solemn  curfew  ;  by  whose  aid —  40 

Weak  masters  though  ye  be — I  have  bedimm'd 

The  noontide  sun,  call'd  forth  the  mutinous  winds, 

And  'twixt  the  green  sea  and  the  azur'd  vault 

Set  roaring  war  :  to  the  dread  rattling  thunder 

Have  I  given  fire,  and  'rifted  Jove's  stout  oak 

With  his  own  bolt ;  the  strong-bas'd  promontory    ~ 

Have  I  made  shake,  and  by  the  spurs  pluck'd  up 

The  pine  and  cedar;  graves  at  my  command 

Have  wak'd  their  sleepers,  op'd,  and  let  'em  forth 

By  my  so  potent  art.     But  this  rough  magic  5° 

I  here  abjure  ;  and,  when  1  have  requir'd 

Some  heavenly  music — which  even  now  I  do, — 

To  work  mine  end  upon  their  senses  that 

This  air}'  charm  is  for,  I  '11  break  my  staff, 

Bury  it  certain  fathoms  in  the  earth. 

And  deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound 

I  '11  drown  my  book.  ^Solonn  music. 

Here  ejiter  Ariel  bcfo7-e :  then  Alonso,  with  a  f?-antic  gesture, 
attended  by  Go'i^zxho ;  Sebastian  a«^  Antonio  in  like  man- 
ner, attended  by  Adrian  and  Francisco  :  they  all  efiter  the 
circle  tahic/i  Prosper©  had  made,  and  there  stand  charmed ; 
which  Prospero  observing,  speaks : 

A  solemn  air,  and  the  best  comforter 

To  an  unsettled  fancy,  cure  thy  brains, 

Now  useless,  boil'd  within  thy  skull  !     There  stand,  60 

For  you  are  spell-stopp'd. — 

Holy  Gonzalo,  honourable  man, 


ACT  V.    SCENE   I. 


97 


Mine  eyes,  even  sociable  to  the  show  of  thine, 

Fall  fellowly  drops. — The  charm  dissolves  apace  ; 

And  as  the  morning  steals  upon  the  night, 

Melting  the  darkness,  so  their  rising  senses 

Begin  to  chase  the  ignorant  fumes  that  mantle 

Their  clearer  reason. — O  good  Gonzalo, 

My  true  preserver,  and  a  loyal  sir 

To  him  thou  follow'st !     I  will  pay  thy  graces  70 

Home  both  in  word  and  deed. — Most  cruelly 

Didst  thou,  Alonso,  use  me  and  my  daughter  ; 

Thy  brother  was  a  furtherer  in  the  act. — 

Thou  art  pinch'd  for  't  now,  Sebastian. — Flesh  and  blood, 

You,  brother  mine,  that  entertainVl  ambition, 

Expell'd  remorse  and  nature;  who,  with  Sebastian, — 

Whose  inward  pinches  therefore  are  most  strong, — 

Would  here  have  kilTd  your  king;  I  do  forgive  thee, 

Unnatural  though  thou  art. — Their  understanding 

Begins  to  swell,  and  the  approaching  tide  80 

Will  shortly  fill  the  reasonable  shore 

That  now  lies  foul  and  muddy.     Not  one  of  them 

That  yet  looks  on  me,  or  would  know  me. — Ariel, 

Fetch  me  the  hat  and  rapier  in  my  cell ; 

I  will  disease  me,  and  myself  present 

As  I  was  sometime  Milan.     Quickly,  spirit ; 

Thou  shalt  ere  long  be  free. 

Ariel  sings,  and  helps  to  attire  him. 
Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  I: 
In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie ; 

There  I  couch  when  owls  do  cry.  90 

On  the  bafs  back  I  dojly 
After  summer  merrily. 
ATerrily,  merrily,  shall  I  live  no7t) 
Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  on  tJu  bough. 
G 


98 


THE    TEMPEST. 


Prospero.  Why,  tnat  's   my  dainty    Ariel !      I  shall    miss 
thee  ; 
I'.ut  yet  thou  shalt  have  freedom  : — so,  so,  so. — 
To  the  king's  ship,  invisible  as  thou  art : 
There  shalt  thou  fiiul  the  mariners  asleep 
Under  the  hatches  ;  the  master  and  the  boatswain 
Being  awake,  enforce  them  to  this  place,  loo 

And  presently,  I  prithee. 

Ariel.  I  drink  the  air  before  me,  and  return 
Or  ere  your  pulse  twice  beat.  \Exit. 

GoJizalo.  All  torment,  trouble,  wonder,  and  amazement 
Inhabits  here ;  some  heavenly  power  guide  us 
Out  of  this  fearful  country  ! 

Prospero.  Behold,  sir  king, 

The  wronged  Duke  of  Milan,  Prospero ! 
For  more  assurance  that  a  living  prince 
Does  now  speak  to  thee,  I  embrace  thy  body  ; 
And  to  thee  and  thy  company  I  bid  "o 

A  hearty  welcome. 

Alonso.  Whether  thou  beest  he  or  no, 

Or  some  enchanted  trifle  to  abuse  me, 
As  late  I  have  been,  I  not  know:  thy  pulse 
Beats,  as  of  flesh  and  blood  ;  and,  since  I  saw  thee, 
The  affliction  of  my  mind  amends,  with  which, 
I  fear,  a  madness  held  me.     This  must  crave — 
An  if  this  be  at  all — a  most  strange  story. 
Thy  dukedom  I  resign,  and  do  entreat 
Thou  pardon  me  my  wrongs.— But  how  should  Prospero 
Be  living  and  be  here  ? 

Prospero.  First,  noble  friend,  120 

Let  me  embrace  thine  age,  whose  honour  cannot 
Be  measured  or  confin'd. 

Gotizalo.  Whether  this  be 

Or  be  not,  I  '11  not  swear. 

Prospero.  You  do  yet  taste 


ACT   V.     SCENE   I.  99 

Some  subtleties  o'  the  isle,  that  will  not  let  you 
Believe  things  certain. — Welcome,  my  friends  all ! — 
\^Aside  to  Sebastian  and  Antonio]  But  you,  my  brace  of  lords, 

were  I  so  minded, 
I  here  could  pluck  his  highness'  frown  upon  you, 
And  justify  you  traitors  ;  at  this  time 
1  '11  tell  no  tales. 

Sebastian.  [Aside]  The  devil  speaks  in  him. 

Prospero.  No. — 

For  you,  most  wicked  sir,  whom  to  call  brother  130 

^Vould  even  infect  my  mouth,  I  do  forgive 
Thy  rankest  fault, — all  of  them  ;  and  require 
My  dukedom  of  thee,  which  perforce  I  know 
Thou  must  restore. 

Alonso.  If  thou  beest  Prospero, 

Give  us  particulars  of  thy  preservation  \ 
How  thou  hast  met  us  here,  whom  three  hours  since 
Were  wrack'd  upon  this  shore,  where  I  have  lost — 
How  sharp  the  point  of  this  remembrance  is!  — 
My  dear  son  Ferdinand. 

Prospero.  I  am  woe  for  't,  sir. 

Alonso.  Irreparable  is  the  loss,  and  patience  140 

Says  it  is  past  her  cure. 

Prospero.  I  rather  think 

You  have  not  sought  her  help,  of  whose  soft  grace 
For  the  like  loss  I  have  her  sovereign  aid. 
And  rest  myself  content. 

Alonso.  You  the  like  loss? 

Prospero.  As  great  to  me  as  late  ;  and  supportable 
To  make  the  dear  loss  have  I  means  much  weaker 
Than  you  may  call  to  comfort  you,  for  I 
Have  lost  my  daughter. 

Alonso.  A  daughter? 

O  heavens,  that  they  were  living  both  in  Naples, 
The  king  and  queen  there  !   that  they  were,  I  wish  150 


lOo  THE    TEMPEST. 

Myself  were  mudded  in  that  oozy  bed 

Where  my  son  lies.     ^Vhen  did  you  lose  your  daughter? 

Prospero.  In  this  last  tempest.     I  perceive,  these  lords 
At  this  encounter  do  so  much  admire 
That  they  devour  their  reason,  and  scarce  think 
'I'heir  eyes  do  offices  of  truth,  their  words 
Are  natural  breath  :  but,  howsoe'er  you  have 
Been  justled  from  your  senses,  know  for  certain 
That  I  am  Prospero,  and  that  very  duke 
Which  was  thrust  forth  of  Milan  ;  who  most  strangely        ifra 
Upon  this  shore,  where  you  were  wrack'd,  was  landed. 
To  be  the  lord  on  't.    'No  more  yet  of  this ; 
For  't  is  a  chronicle  of  day  by  day, 
Not  a  relation  for  a  breakfast,  nor 
Befitting  this  first  meeting.     Welcome,  sir; 
This  cell  's  my  court :  here  have  I  few  attendants. 
And  subjects  none  abroad  :  pray  you,  look  in. 
My  dukedom  since  you  have  given  me  again, 
I  will  requite  you  with  as  good  a  thing ; 

At  least  bring  forth  a  wonder,  to  content  ye  170 

As  much  as  me  my  dukedom. 

Here  Prospero  discovers  Ferdinand  and  Miranda /^rj/w^ 
at  chess. 

Miranda.   Sweet  lord,  you  play  me  false. 

Ferdinand.  No,  my  dear'st  love, 

I  would  not  for  the  world. 

Miranda.  Yes,  for  a  score  of  kingdoms  you  should  wrangle, 
And  I  would  call  it  fair  play. 

Alonso.  If  this  prove 

A  vision  of  the  island,  one  dear  son 
Shall  I  twice  lose. 

Sebastian.  A  most  high  miracle  I 

Ferdinand.  Though  the  seas  threaten,  they  are  merciful ; 
I  have  curs'd  them  without  cause.  \Kneeh. 


ACT   V.    SCENE   /.  loi 

Alonso.  Now  all  the  blessings 

Of  a  glad  father  compass  thee  about !  iSc 

Arise,  and  say  how  thou  cam'st  here. 

Miranda.  O,  wonder ! 

How  many  goodly  creatures  are  there  here  ! 
How  beauteous  mankind  is  !     O  brave  new  world, 
That  has  such  people  in  't ! 

Prospero.  'T  is  new  to  thee. 

Alonso.   What  is  this  maid  with  whom  thou  wast  at  play? 
Your  eld'st  acquaintance  cannot  be  three  hours  ; 
Is  she  the  goddess  that  hath  sever'd  us, 
And  brought  us  thus  together  ? 

Ferdinand.  Sir,  she  is  mortal. 

But  by  immortal  Providence  she  's  mine; 
I  chose  her  when  I  could  not  ask  my  father  19^ 

For  his  advice,  nor  thought  I  had  one.      She 
Is  daughter  to  this  famous  Duke  of  Milan, 
Of  whom  so  often  I  have  heard  renown. 
But  never  saw  before  ;  of  whom  I  have 
Receiv'd  a  second  life,  and  second  father 
This  lady  makes  him  to  me. 

Alonso.  I  am  hers. 

But,  O,  how  oddly  will  it  sound  that  I 
Must  ask  my  child  forgiveness  1 

Prospero.  There,  sir,  stop  ; 

Let  us  not  burthen  our  remembrances 
With  a  heaviness  that 's  gone. 

Gonzalo.  I  have  inly  wept,  20 

Or  should  have  spoke  ere  this. — Look  down,  you  gods, 
And  on  this  couple  drop  a  blessed  crown  ! 
For  it  is  you  that  have  chalk'd  forth  the  way 
Which  brought  us  hither. 

Alonso.  I  say  .Amen,  (ionzalo  ! 

Gonzalo.  Was  Milan  thrust  from  Milan,  that  his  issue 
Should  become  kings  of  Naples  ?     O,  rejoice 


I02  THE    TEMPEST. 

Beyond  a  common  joy  !  and  set  it  down 

With  gold  on  lasting  pillars:  In  one  voyage 

Did  Claribel  her  husband  find  at  Tunis  ; 

And  Ferdinand  her  brother  found  a  wife,  2.0 

Where  he  himself  was  lost ;  Prospero  his  dukedom, 

In  a  poor  isle  ;  and  all  of  us  ourselves, 

When  no  man  was  his  own. 

Alonso.  \to  Ferdinand  and  ATinvidii\  Give  me  your  hands; 
Let  grief  and  sorrow  still  embrace  his  heart 
That  doth  not  wish  you  joy  ! 

Gofizalo.  ,  Be  it  so!     Amen!  — 

Enter  Ariel,  zvith  the  Master  and  Boatswain  amazedly 
following. 
O,  look,  sir  !  look,  sir  !  here  is  more  of  us  ! 
I  pfophesied,  if  a  gallows  were  on  land. 
This  fellow  could  not  drown.  —  Now,  blasphemy. 
That  swear'st  grace  o'erboard,  not  an  oath  on  shore? 
Hast  thou  no  mouth  by  land  .'     What  is  the  news?  y^a 

Boatswain.  The  best  news  is,  that  we  have  safely  found 
Our  king  and  company;  the  next,  our  ship — 
Which,  but  three  glasses  since,  we  gave  out  split — 
Is  tight,  and  yare,  and  bravely  rigg'd  as  when 
We  first  put  out  to  sea. 

Ariel.  [Aside  to  Frospero']  Sir,  all  this  service 
Have  I  done  since  I  went. 

Frospero.  [Aside  to  Ariel]  My  tricksy  spirit! 

Alonso.  These  are  not  natural  events  ;  they  strengthen 
From  strange  to  stranger. — Say,  how  came  you  hither? 

Boatswain.   If  I  did  think,  sir,  I  were  well  awake, 
I  'd  strive  to  tell  you.     We  were  dead  of  sleep,  230 

And — how  we  know  not — all  clapp'd  under  hatches  ; 
Where,  but  even  now,  with  strange  and  several  noises 
Of  roaring,  shrieking,  howling,  jingling  chains. 
And  moe  diversity  of  sounds,  all  horrible, 


ACT   /'.     SCENE  I.  103 

We  were  awak'd  ;  straightway,  at  liberty; 
Where  we,  in  ail  her  trim,  freshly  beheld 
Our  royal,  good,  and  gallant  ship  ;  our  master  . 
Capering  to  eye  her.     On  a  trice,  so  please  you, 
Even  in  a  dream,  were  we  divided  from  them 
And  were  brought  moping  hither. 

Ariel.  \ Aside  to  Prospen)\  Was  't  well  done  ?         240 

Prospero.   [^Aside  to  An'e/]   Bravely,  my  diligence.     Thou 
shalt  be  free. 

Alonso.  This  is  as  strange  a  maze  as  e'er  men  trod  ; 
And  there  is  in  this  business  more  than  nature 
Was  ever  conduct  of:  some  oracle 
Must  rectify  our  knowledge. 

Prospero.  Sir,  my  liege, 

Do  not  infest  your  mind  with  beating  on 
The  strangeness  of  this  business.     At  pick'd  leisure, 
Which  shall  be  shortly,  single  I  '11  resolve  you, 
Which  to  you  shall  seem  probable,  of  every 
These  happen'd  accidents  ;  till  when,  be  cheerful,  250 

And  think  of  each  thing  well.  —  \Aside  to  Aricl^  Come  hither, 

spirit  : 
Set  Caliban  and  his  companions  free  ; 
Untie  the  spell. — \_Exit  Arie/.]   How  fares  my  gracious  sir? 
There  are  yet  missing  of  your  company 
Some  few  odd  lads  that  you  remember  not. 

Enter  Ariel,  driving  in  Caliban,  Stephano,  <7//^/Trin'CUL0, 
///  their  stolen  apparel. 

Stephano.  Every  man  shift  for  all  the  rest,  and  let  no  man 
take  care  for  himself,  for  all  is  but  fortune. — Coragio,  bully- 
monster,  coragio  ! 

Trinculo.  If  these  be  true  spies  which  I  wear  in  my  head, 
here  's  a  goodly  sight.  260 

Caliban.  O  Setcbos,  these  be  brave  spirits  indeed! 


I04 


THE    TEMPEST. 


How  fine  my  master  is  !     I  am  afraid 
He  will  chastise  me. 

Sebastian.  Ha,  ha ! 

What  things  are  these,  my  lord  Antonio? 
Will  money  buy  'em  ? 

Antonio.  Very  like  ;  one  of  them 

Is  a  plain  fish,  and  no  doubt  marketable. 

Prospero.  Mark  but  the  badges  of  these  men,  my  lords, 
Then  say  if  they  be  true. — This  misshapen  knave, 
His  mother  was  a  witch  ;  and  one  so  strong 
That  could  control  the  moon,  make  flows  and  ebbs,  27° 

And  deal  in  her  command  without  her  power. 
These  three  have  robb'd  me ;  and  this  demi-devil — 
For  he  's  a  bastard  one — had  plotted  with  them 
To  take  my  life.     Two  of  these  fellows  you 
Must  know  and  own  ;  this  thing  of  darkness  I 
Acknowledge  mine. 

Caliban.  I  shall  be  pinch'd  to  death. 

Alonso.  Is  not  this  Stephano,  my  drunken  butler  ? 

Sebastian.   He  is  drunk  now  ;  where  had  he  wine? 

Alonso.  And  Trinculo  is  reeling-ripe ;  where  should  they 
Find  this  grand  liquor  that  hath  gilded 'em?  280 

How  cam'st  thou  in  this  pickle? 

Trinculo.  I  have  been  in  such  a  pickle,  since  I  saw  you 
last,  that,  I  fear  me,  will  never  out  of  my  bones ;  I  shall  not 
fear  fly-blowing. 

Sebastian.  Why,  how  now,  Stephano  ! 

Stephano.  O,  touch  me  not ;  I  am  not  Stephano,  but  a 
cramp. 

Prospero.  You  'd  be  king  o'  the  isle,  sirrah  ? 

Stephano.  I  should  have  been  a  sore  one,  then. 

Alonso.  This  is  a  strange  thing  as  e'er  I  look'd  on.         290 

^Pointing  to  Caliban. 

Prospero.   He  is  as  disproportion'd  in  his  manners 
As  in  his  shape. — Go,  sirrah,  to  my  cell ; 


ACT  V.     SCEXE   /.  105 

Take  with  you  your  companions  ;  as  you  look 
To  have  my  pardon,  trim  it  handsomely. 

Caliban.   Ay,  that  I  will  ;  and  I  '11  be  wise  hereafter, 
And  seek  for  grace.     What  a  thrice-double  ass 
Was  I,  to  take  this  drunkard  for  a  god, 
And  worship  this  dull  fool ! 

Prospero.  Go  to  ;  away  ! 

Alonso.  Hence,  and  bestow  your  luggage  where  you  found 
it. 

Sebastian.  Or  stole  it,  rather.  300 

[^Exeunt  Caliban,  Stephana.,  and  Trinculo. 

Prospero.  Sir,  I  invite  your  highness  and  your  train 
To  my  poor  cell,  where  you  shall  take  your  rest 
For  this  one  night ;  which,  part  of  it,  I  '11  waste 
With  such  discourse  as,  I  not  doubt,  shall  make  it 
Go  quick  away, — the  story  of  my  life, 
And  the  particular  accidents  gone  by 
Since  I  came  to  this  isle:  and  in  the  morn 
I  'II  bring  you  to  your  ship,  and  so  to  Naples, 
Where  I  have  hope  to  see  the  nuptial 

Of  these  our  dear-belov'd  solemnized  ;  310 

And  thence  retire  me  to  my  Milan,  where 
Every  third  thought  shall  be  my  grave. 

Alotiso.  I  long 

To  hear  the  story  of  your  life,  which  must 
Take  the  ear  strangely. 

Prospero.  I  '11  deliver  all  ; 

And  promise  you  calm  seas,  auspicious  gales, 
And  sail  so  expeditious  that  shall  catch 
Your  royal  fleet  far  off — {^Aside  to  Arte/]  My  Ariel,  chick, 
That  is  thy  charge  ;  then  to  the  elements 
Be  free,  and  fare  thou  well ! — Please  you,  draw  near. 

[Exeunt. 


io6 


THE    TEMPEST. 


EPILOGUE. 

SPOKEN    BY    PROSPERO. 

Now  my  charms  are  all  o'erthrown, 
And  what  strength  I  have  's  mine  own, 
Which  is  most  faint ;  now,  't  is  true, 
I  must  be  here  confin'd  by  you, 
Or  sent  to  Naples.     Let  me  not, 
Since  I  have  my  dukedom  got, 
And  pardon'd  the  deceiver,  dwell 
In  this  bare  island  by  your  spell ; 
But  release  me  from  my  bands 
With  the  help  of  your  good  hands. 
Gentle  breath  of  yours  my  sails 
Must  fill,  or  else  my  project  fails, 
Which  was  to  please.     Now  I  want 
Spirits  to  enforce,  art  to  enchant ; 
And  my  ending  is  despair. 
Unless  I  be  reliev'd  by  prayer, 
Which  pierces  so  that  it  assaults 
Mercy  itself,  and  frees  all  faults. 
As  you  from  crimes  would  pardon'd  be. 
Let  vour  indulgence  set  me  free. 


NOTES. 


ABBREVIATIONS   USED  IN  THE  NOTES. 

Abbott  (or  Gr.),  Abbott's  Shakespearian  Grammar  (third  edition). 
A.  S.,  Anglo-Saxon. 

A.  v.,  Authorized  Version  of  the  Bible  (i6n). 

B.  and  F.,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 
B.  J.,  Ben  Jonson. 

Camb.  ed.,  "  Cambridge  edition  "  of  Shakespeare,  edited  by  Clark  and  Wright. 

Cf.  {confer),  compare. 

Clarke,  "  Cassell's  Illustrated  Shakespeare,"  edited  by  Charles  and  Mary  Cowden- 
Clarke  (London,  n.  d.). 

Coll.,  Collier  (second  edition). 

Coll.  MS.,  Manuscript  Corrections  of  Second  Folio,  edited  by  Collier. 

D.,  Dyce  (second  edition). 

H.,  Hudson  ("  Harvard"  edition).  v 

Halliwell,  J.  O.  Halliwell  (folio  ed.  of  Shakespeare). 

Id.  {idem),  the  same. 

K.,  Knight  (second  edition). 

Nares,  Glossary,  edited  by  Halliwell  and  Wright  (London,  1859). 

Phila.  ed.,  Notes  of  Studies  on  The  Tempest,  by  Shakespeare  Society  of  Phila.  (60 
copies  privately  printed,  1S66). 

Prol.,  Prologue. 

Rich.,  Richardson's  Dictionary  (London,  1838). 

S.,  Shakespeare. 

Schmidt,  A.  Schmidt's  Shakespeare-Lexicon  (Berlin,  1874). 

Sr.,  Singer. 

St.,  Staunton. 

Theo.,  Theobald. 

v.,  Verplanck. 

W.,  R.  Grant  White. 

Walker,  Wm.  Sidney  Walker's  Critical  Examitiation  0/  the  Text  of  Shakespeare 
(London,  i860). 

Warb.,  Warburton. 

Wb.,  Webster's  Dictionary  (revised  quarto  edition  of  1879). 

Wore,  Worcester's  Dictionary  (quarto  edition). 

Wr.,  W.  A.  Wright's  "  Clarendon  Press"  edition  of  Temp.  (O.xford,  1874). 

The  abbreviations  of  the  names  of  Shakespeare's  Plays  will  be  readily  understood  ;  as 
T.  N.  for  T%velfth  Night,  Cor.  for  Coriolamis,  3  Hen.  VI.  for  The  Third  Part  of  King 
Henry  the  Sixth,  etc.  P.  P.  refers  to  The  Passionate  Pilgrim  ;  V.  atid  A .  to  I  'enus 
and  Adonis  ;  L.  C.  to  Lover''  s  Complaint ;  and  Sonn.  to  the  Sonnets. 

When  the  abbreviation  of  the  name  of  a  play  is  followed  by  a  reference  to  page, 
Kobe's  edition  of  the  play  is  meant. 
The  numbers  of  the  lines  (except  for  the  present  play)  are  those  of  the  "  Globe  "  ed. 


NOTES. 


ACT  I. 


Scene  I. — In  the  first  folio,  the  play  is  divided  into  acts  and  scenes. 
At  the  end,  printed  side  by  side  with  the'Epilogue,  a  list  oidniviads  f>er- 
sonte  is  given,  under  the  heading  "  Names  of  the  Actors  "  and  above  this 
is  "The  Scene,  an  vn-inhabiied  Island."     Cf.  0th.  p.  153. 

3.  Good,  speak  to  the  tiiai  iiiers.  That  is,  good  boatszoain  or  fello^o,  as 
D.,  W.,  and  others  e.xplain  it.  The  folio  has  "Good:  Speake  to  th' 
Mariners :"  and  some  retain  that  pointing,  making  f^ood—^ooA  cheer. 
But  the  cheer  was  not  good,  as  they  were  running  aground.  Cf,  also 
just  below,  "  Nay,  good,  be  patient,"  and  Ham.  i.  i.  70  :  "  Good  now,  sit 
down."     See  also  C.  of  E.  p.  140. 

Yarely.  Readily,  nimbly  ;  from  vare,  quick,  active.  Cf.  A.  and  C.  ii. 
2.  216  :  "That  yarely  frame  the  office  ;"  and  for  yare,  T.  N.  iii.  4.  244  : 
"  be  yare  in  thy  preparation  ;"  A.  and  C.  v.  2.  286  :  "  Yare,  yare,  good  Iras, 
quick,"  etc.  So  in  Chaucer,  Les^end  of  Good  IVomeu,  2268:  "This  Te- 
reus  let  make  hys  shipi)es  yare ;"  that  is,  had  his  ships  made  ready. 

5.  Cheerly.  Anexamjile  of  "-/v  found  with  a  noun,  and  yet  not  ajijicaring 
to  convey  an  adjectival  meaning."  Gr.  447.  Cf.  "  angerly,"  .\facb.  iii.  5.  i  ; 
"  hungerly,"  Olh.  iii.  4.  105,  etc.  S.  uses  cheerlv  ol'lcn,  but  cheerily  not 
once.  Rich,  gives  an  example  of  the  latter  from  H.  and  F.  Milton  has 
cheerly  in  V Allegro — the  only  instance  in  which  he  uses  cither. 


no  NOTKS. 

6.  Tend.  Attend  ;  as  in  i.  2.  47  below.  Cf.  Rich.  II L  iv.  i.  93  :  "  Good 
angels  tend  thee  !"  etc. 

7.  If  room  enough.  If  there  be  sea-room  enough.  Cf.  Per.  iii.  i.  45  : 
"  But  sea-room,  an  the  brine  and  cloudy  billow  kiss  the  moon,  I  care 
not." 

9.  Play  the  men.  Play  the  part  of  men,  behave  like  men  ;  as  in  i 
Hen.  VI.  i.  6.  16:  "When  they  shall  hear  how  we  have  play'd  the 
men."     Cf.  Chapman's  Iliad,  bk.  v. : 

"  Which  doing,  thou  shall  know  what  souldiers  play  the  men, 
And  what  the  cowards;" 

and  Marlowe's  Tambiirlaine,  i.  i  :  "  Viceroys  and  peers  of  Turkey,  play 
the  men."     See  also  2  Safit.  x.  12. 

13.  Vou  do  assist  the  storm.  Cf.  Per.  iii.  i.  19:  "Patience,  good  sir; 
do  not  assist  the  storm." 

15.  What  cares  these  roarers,  etc.  Some  editors  change  cares  to  care, 
but  the  singular  (or  the  old  plural,  as  Abbott  considers  it)  is  often  used 
before  a  plural  subject.  See  Gr.  335  ;  and  cf.  iv.  i.  259  below.  Of 
course  no  typographical  error  is  possible  in  cases  where  the  rhyme  re- 
quires the  form  in  -s  ;  as  in  Rich.  II.  iii.  3.  168: 

"  There  lies 
Two  kinsmen  digg'd  their  graves  with  weeping  eyes;" 

and  L.  C.  230 : 

"  And  to  their  audit  comes 
Their  distract  parcels  in  combined  sums." 

16.  To  cabin.  Abbott  (Gr.  90)  gives  many  similar  examples  of  the 
omission  oi  the  ;  as  "at  door"(^.  7".  i v.  4.  352  and  T.o/S.iv.  i.  125), 
"  at  end"  (Cor.  iv.  7.  4),  "  to  west  "  (Sonii.  33.  8),  etc. 

21.  Of  the  present.  Cf.  J.  C.  i.  2.  165  :  "  For  chis  present ;"  and  i  Cor. 
XV.  6. 

Hand.     Lay  hands  on,  touch  ;■  as  in  IV.  T.  ii.  3.  63  : 

"  Let  him  that  makes  but  trifles  of  his  eyes 
First  hand  me." 

27.  He  hath  no  dro-ivnirtg  mark  upon  him,  etc.  The  allusion  to  the 
familiar  proverb  is  obvious.     Cf.  T.  G.  of  V.  i.  i.  156  : 

"  Go,  go,  begone  to  save  your  ship  from  wrack. 
Which  cannot  perish  having  thee  aboard. 
Being  destin'd  to  a  drier  death  on  shore." 

See  also  v.  i.  217  below.  H.  makes  complexio7f="  Y\?i\.\.\r&,  native  bent" 
(a  sense  it  occasionally  has  in  S.),  but  it  is  better  to  explain  it  as  "exter- 
nal appearance"  (Schmidt).  The  gallows  complexion  is  opposed  to  the 
"  drowning  mark.''^ 

32.  Down  with  the  topmast,  etc.  Striking  the  topmast  was  a  new  in- 
vention in  S.'s  time,  which  he  here  very  properly  introduces.  See  the 
comments  of  Lord  Mulgrave,  p.  145  below.  Lower  is  in  the  imperative 
mood. 

33.  Bring  her  to  try  wi'  the  main  course.  Keep  her  as  close  to  the  wind 
as  possible  with  the  mainsail.  Malone  quotes  Hakluyt's  Voyages  (1598)  : 
"  And  when  the  barke  had  way,  we  cut  the  hauser,  and  so  gate  the  sea 

\ 


ACT  I.    SCEiVE   If.  Ill 

to  our  friend,  and  tried  out  all  that  day  with  our  maine  course."  The 
phrase  is  also  found  in  Smith's  Sea- Grammar,  1627.  The  folio  reads, 
"  bring  her  to  Try  with  Maine-course  ;"  and  W.  thinks  it  should  be  point- 
ed thus  :   "  Bring  her  to  :  try  wi'  the  main  course." 

39.  Incharilable.  Used  by  S.  only  here.  Uncharitable  he  does  not  use 
at  all ;  but  we  find  imcharitably  in  Kich.  III.  i.  3.  275,  Cf.  K.  John,  p. 
143,  note  on  InJorCunate.     Gr.  442. 

43.  7  7/  warrant  him  for  drotoning.  For  here  may  be  either  "as  re- 
gards" or  "against"  (Gr.  154).  For  the  latter  meaning,  cf.  B.  and  F., 
Captain,  iii.  5  :  "We'll  have  a  bib  for  spoiling  of  thy  doublet;"  Lyly, 
Enphiies:  "If  he  were  too  long  for  the  bed,  they  cut  off  his  legs,  for 
catching  cold,"  etc. 

45.  Lay  her  a-hold,  a-hold.  To  lay  a  ship  a-hold  is  to  bring  her  to  lie 
as  near  to  the  wind  as  she  can,  in  order  to  keep  clear  of  the  land,  and 
get  her  out  to  sea  (Steevens). 

Set  her  two  courses.  That  is,  the  mainsail  (the  main  course  above)  and 
foresail.  The  folio  reads :  "  Lay  her  a  hold,  a  hold,  set  her  two  courses 
off  to  sea  againe,  lay  her  off,"  and  some  modern  editors  put  no  point 
after  "  courses." 

48.  Must  our  mouths  be  cold?  Must  we  die?  It  has  been  suggested 
(Phila.  ed.)  that  it  may  mean.  Must  we  resort  to  cowardly  prayers  .'  and 
the  following  from  B.  and  F.  {Sea  Voyage,  i.  i,  an  imitation  of  The  Tem- 
pest) is  cited  in  support  of  the  explanation  : 

"Thou  rascal,  thou  fearful  rogue,  thou  hast  been  p'ciyiug: 

is  this  a  time 

To  discourage  our  friends  with  your  cold  orisons  ?" 

51.  IVe  are  merely  cheated,  etc.  Absolutely  cheated.  Cf.  M.  of  V.  iii. 
2.  265:  "mere  enemy;"  0th.  ii.  2.  3  :  "the  mere  perdition  (that  is,  the 
entire  destruction)  of  the  Turkish  fleet  ;"  Hen.  I'll  I.  iii.  2.  329:  "the 
mere  undoing  (the  complete  ruin)  of  all  the  kingdom,"  etc.  So  in. Ba- 
con's 58th  Essay:  "As  for  conflagrations  and  great  droughts,  they  do 
not  merely  (that  is,  entirely)  dispeople  and  destroy  ;"  where  most  of  the 
modern  editors  (Montague  and  Whately  included),  mistaking  the  mean- 
ing, have  changed  "(zW  destroy  "  to  "  but  destroy."  See  also  Ham.  \.  2. 
137,  etc. 

55.  To  glut  him.  To  swallow  him  ;  the  only  instance  of  this  sense  in 
S.     Cf.  Milton, /".  Z.  X.  633  :  "sucked  and  glutted  offal." 

6l.  Long  heath,  broken  furze.  Hanmer  suggested  "  ling,  heath,  broom, 
furie,"  which  D.  adopts  ;  but  there  seems  to  be  no  sufficient  reason  for 
altering  the  text  of  the  folio. 

Scene  II. — 4.  Mounting  to  the  welkin's  cheek.     Cf.  Rich.  II.  iii.  3.  57  : 

"  Their  thundering  shock 
At  meeting  tears  the  cloudy  cheeks  of  heaven." 

5.  Fire.     A  dissyllable.     Gr.  4S0. 

7.  Who  had  no  doubt  some  noble  creature  in  hei:  On  who^which,  see 
Gr.  264.     D.,  St.,  and  others  change  creature  to  "treatures." 


1 1 2  NO  TES. 

1 1.  Or  ere.  The  or  is  undoubtedly  the  A.  S.  (Er  (our  ere)  which  appears 
in  eaily  English  in  the  forms  er,  air,  ar,  ear,  or,  eror.  We  find  or —  before 
in  Chaucer,  as  in  the  Kuightes  Tale,  1685:  "  Cleer  was  the  day,  as  I 
have  told  or  this  ;"  and  later,  as  in  Latimer  and  Ascham.  Ere  seems 
to  have  been  added  to  or  for  emphasis  when  the  meaning  of  the  latter 
was  dying  out.  In  early  English  we  find  such  combinations  as  erst  er, 
bifore  er,  before  or  (Matzner,  iii.  45 1 ). 

Some  explain  or  ere,  which  they  write  or  e'er,  as  a  contraction  q{  or 
^7,r;- =  before  ever.  Or  ever  is,  indeed,  not  unfrequently  found  (in  the 
Bible,  for  instance,  in  Eccles.  xii.  6,  Proz\  viii.  23,  Dan.  vi.  24,  etc.)  ;  but, 
as  Abbott  remarks  (Gr.  131),  it  is  much  more  likely  that  ever  should  be 
substituted  for  ere  than  ei-e  for  ever. 

13.  Fraiigliting.  Making  up  hex  fra?ig/it,  or  freight.  S.  does  not  use 
freight,  either  as  a  verb  or  a  noun.     Cf.  Af.  of  V.  p.  145. 

19.  More  better.  For  double  comparatives  and  superlatives  in  S.,  see 
M.  of  V.  p.  159,  or  Gr.  1 1.     Cf.  438  below. 

20.  Full.     To  the  full,  very.     Cf.  A.  and  C.  i.  I.  59  :  "  full  sorry,"  etc. 
22.  Meddle  -with  my  thoughts.     That  is,  mingle  with  them."    Cf.  Wiclif, 

Matt,  xxvii.  24  :  "  wyn  medlid  with  gall  ;"  yohn,  xix.  39  :  "a  niedling  of 
myrre  and  aloes  ;"  Chaucer,  Legeiui  of  Good  Women,  874:  "  How  med- 
e'eth  she  his  blood  with  hir  compleynte  ?"  Spenser,  Shep.  Kal.  Apr.  68: 
"The  redde  rose  medled  with  the  white  yfere  ;"  Hooker,  ^(r<r/. /"t?/.  i  v. 
8 :  "  A  meddled  estate  of  the  orders  of  the  Gospel  and  the  ceremonies 
of  poperie,"  etc. 

24.  Plnck.     A  pet  word  with  S.     See  Cor.  p.  204,  or  Lear,  p.  238. 

25.  Lie  there,  my  art.  Fuller  {Holy  State,  iv.  6)  says  that  Lord  Burleigh, 
when  he  put  off  his  gown  at  night,  used  to  say,  "  Lie  there,  Lord  Treas- 
urer." 

26.  Wrack.  The  word  is  invariably  wrack  in  S.,  and  was  so  pronounced. 
Cf.  the  rhymes  in  V.  and  A.  558,  R.  of  L.  841,  965,  Sonn.  126.  5,  Macb.  v. 
5.  51,  etc. 

27.  The  very  virtue  of  compassion.     The  very  essence  or  soul  of  it. 

28.  /  have  7uith  such  provision.  Hunter  suggested  "  prevision,"  which 
D.  and  H.  adopt ;  but,  as  Mrs.  Kemble  remarks  {Atlantic  Monthly,  vol.  viii. 
p.  290),  "It  is  very  true  that  /;rvision  means  the  foresight  that  his  art 
gave  him,  but /;'(7vision  implies  the  exercise  of  that  foresight  or /revis- 
ion ;  it  is  therefore  better,  because  more  comprehensive." 

29.  So  safely  oi-der''d,  that  there  is  no  soul —  This  is  quite  obviously  an 
instance  of  anacoluthon,  but  Theo.  proposed  "no  foil,"  and  Pope  followed 
him.  Capell  read  "no  loss;"  Rowe  and  Warb.,  "  no  soullost."  John- 
son suggested  "  no  soil." 

31.  Betid.  The  -ed  of  the  participle  is  often  omitted  after  d  and  /. 
Gr.  342.     Cf  quit  in  148  below. 

32.  Which  thou,  etc.  For  the  arrangement  of  clauses,  cf.  Macb.  i.  3.  60, 
61  ;  and  see  our  ed.  p.  162. 

^i.  Out.  Fully,  completely.  Abbott  (Gr.  183)  makes  it  =beyond.  Cf. 
iv.  I.  loi  below  :  "  right  out." 

53.  Twelve  year  since,  etc.  The  folio  reads,  "Twelue  yere  since  (Mi- 
randa), twelue  yere  since."     Pope  needlessly  changed  year  to  "  years." 


ACT  I.     SCEXE  II. 


113 


Cf.  Rich.  II.  p.  182,  note  on  91.  For  the  scanning  of  the  line,  see  Gr. 
480.     The  first  vear  is  a  dissyllable. 

56.  Piece.  Model,  masterpiece.  Cf.  A.  and  C.  iii.  2.  28,  and  see  our 
ed.  p.  193. 

58.  And  his  only  heir,  etc.     The  reading  of  the  folio  is, 

"Was  Duke  of  Millaine,  and  his  onely  heire, 
And  Princesse  ;  no  worse  Issued." 

With  a  slight  change  in  the  pointing  this  is  clear  enough,  but  Hanmer 
made  it  read 

"Was  Duke  of  Milan ;  thou  his  only  heir 
And  princess,  no  worse  issued." 

Pope  then  changed  "And  princess"  to  "A  princess."  D.  adopts  both 
emendations. 

63.  Holp.  For  holpen,  the  old  participle  oi  help.  For  the  full  form  see 
Ps.  Ixxxiii.  8,  Dim.  xi.  34,  etc.  The  contracted  form  is  common  in  early 
writers  ;  as  in  Piers  the  P/o-ivman's  Vision,  iv.  169  :  "  For  ofte  haue  I,  quod 
he,  holpe  you  atte  barre."  Holp  is  jjroperly  the  past  tense  of  help,  and  S. 
uses  it  oftener  than  helped.     See  A^  John,  p.  138,  or  i  Hen.  IV.  p.  147. 

64.  Teen.  Grief,  trouble.  Cf.  R.  and  j.  i.  3.  13  :  "to  my  teen  be  it 
spoken  ;"  Z.  L.  L.  iv.  3.  164:  "of  groans,  of  sorrow,  and  of  teen,"  etc. 
See  also  Spenser,  F.  Q.  i.  9.  34:  "for  dread  and  doleful!  teen;"  Shep. 
Kal.  Nov.  41  :  "my  woful  teen,"  etc. 

65.  From  mv  remembrance.  That  is,  away  from  it.  From  is  often  so 
used  ;  as  in  y.  C.  i.  3.  35  :  "clean  from  the  purpose  ;"  T.  iV.  i.  5.  201  : 
"This  is  from  my  commission,"  etc.     See  Gr.  158. 

67.  My  brother  and  thy  uncle,  etc.  This,  with  the  following  speech  of 
Prospero,  has  well  been  called  "a  network  of  anacoUuha."  "The  sub- 
ject, My  brother,  is  dropped,  and  taken  up  again  as  he  whom,  and  finally 
in  false  nncle,  before  its  verb  (but  only  after  another  interruption)  is 
reached  in  }ie7a  created.  A  parenthesis  begins  with  as  at  that  time  ;■  but 
it  ceases  to  be  treated  as  a  parenthesis,  and  eddies  into  the  main  current 
of  expression  at  those  being  all  my  study  "  (Phila.  ed.). 

70.  Manage.      For  the  noun,  cf.  M.of  V.  iii.  4.  25  ;  and  see  our  ed. 

P-  153- 

As  at  that  time.  The  as  is  probably  redundant  here,  as  it  often  is  in 
statements  of  time.  In  early  English  as  is  often  prefixed  to  dates:  "as 
this  year  of  grace,"  etc.  Chaucer  has  as  now,  as  here,  etc.  —»07u,  here, 
etc.  Prof  G.  Allen  (Phila.  ed.),  who  was  the  first  to  call  attention  to  this 
use  oi  as  in  S.,  quotes  the  Collect  for  Christmas  in  tlic  Prayer-Book : 
"Almighty  God,  who  hast  given  us  thy  only-begotten  Son  lo  take  our 
nature  upon  him,  and  as  at  this  time  to  be  born,"  etc.  See  also  Gr.  1 14. 
Cf.  M.  for  M.  V.  I.  74 :  "  One  Lucio  as  then  the  messenger." 

71.  Through  all  the  sign  lories  it  7vas  the  first.  Botero  (Relations  0/  the 
IVorld,  1630)  says,  "  Milan  claims  to  be  the  first  duchy  in  Europe." 

80.  Who  to  advance,  (^ic.     On  who  — rvhom,  see  dr.  2J4. 

81.  7<>  trash  for  overtopping.  A  metaphor  taken  from  hunting.  To 
Irash  a  hound  was  to  check  or  hamper  him,  so  that  he  would  not  i^vertop 
or  outrun  the  pack.     Cf  0th.  ii.  i.  312  : 

H 


114 


NOTES. 


"  If  this  poor  trash  of  Venice,  whom  I  trash 
For  his  quick  hunting." 

Warb.  and  Steevens  make  /;v2i^//  =  ]op,  or  prune. 
'^  83.  Key.     That  is,  tuning-key  (Sir  J.  Hawkins). 

85.  That  now,  etc.     So  that  now,  etc.  ;  a  common  ellipsis.     Gr.  283. 

86.  The  ivy,  etc.     The  ivy  was  thought  to  be  a  parasitic  plant  and  inju- 
.rious  to  trees.     Cf.  C.  of  E.  ii.  2.  180  :   "  usurping -ivy." 

87.  Out  on  't.     For  on  =  oi,  see  Gr.  182. 

-90.  Closeness.  Privacy,  seclusion  ;  the  only  instance  of  the  noun  in  S. 
Cf.  "a  close  (secret)  exploit  of  death  "  {Rich.  III.  iv.  2.  35);  "we  have 
closely  (privately)  sent  for  Hamlet"  [Havi.'m.  1.29),  etc. 

91.  But  by  being  so  retired.  "  Were  it  only  for  the  retirement  it  procured 
me  ;"  or,  perhaps,  except  fo7-  its  being  so  retired. 

94.  Like  a  good  parent.  "Alluding  to  the  observation  that  a  father 
above  the  common  rate  of  men  has  commonly  a  son  below  it.     Heroum 

''/?/// ;wx(7^"  (Johnson). 

95.  Ifs.     The  folio  spelling.     See  on  392  below. 

97.  Sans  bound.  Without  limit.  As  Nares  remarks,  "a- general  com- 
bination seems  to  have  subsisted,  among  all  our  poets,  to  introduce  this 
French  word,  certainly  very  convenient  for  their  verse,  into  the  English 
language  ;  but  in  vain  ;  the  country  never  received  it,  and  it  has  always 
appeared  as  an  exotic,  even  though  the  elder  poets  Anglicized  its  form 
into  satince,  or  gave  it  the  English  pronunciation."  In  a  familiar  passage 
in  A.  Y.  L.  (ii.  7.  166),  S.  uses  it  four  times  in  a  single  line.  See  our  ed. 
p.  163. 

Lorded.  Made  a  lord.  Cf.  strangered=rviZ.diQ  a  stranger  {Lear,  i.  i. 
207),  and  j^;z'i?«to/=made  subservient  {Cor.  v.  2.  89).  But  /7;/^^</=  ruled 
(A'.  John,  ii.  i.  37l),yi2Mf;W  =  provided  with  a  father  {J.  C.  ii.  i.  297  and 
Lear,  iii.  6.  117),  A'zwv^/^ gifted  with  a  lover  [L.  C.  320),  etc.    See  Gr.  294. 

98.  Revenue.  The  accent  on  the  penult,  as  in  //aw.  iii.  2.  63  :  "from 
thee  that  no  revenue  hast,"  and  M.  N.  D.  i.  i.  158:  "Of  great  revenue, 
and  she  hath  no  child ;"  but  in  the  same  scene  of  M.  N.  D.  (6)  we  find  it 
with  the  modern  accent :  "  Long  withering  out  a  young  man's  revenue." 
For  a  list  of  words  used  by  S.  with  "  the  accent  nearer  the  end  than  with 
us,"  see  Gr.  490 ;  but  revenue  is  omitted. 

100.  Unto  truth,  eic.  The  folio  has  "into,"  which  D.  retains,  quoting 
as  another  instance  o(  into  for  unto,  "And  pray  God's  blessing  into  thy 
attempt,"  A.  W.  i.  3.  260.  In  "  telling  of  it,"  it  refers  to  lie,  by  antici])a- 
tion.  The  Coll.  MS.  has  "having  to  untruth  ;"  and  H.  changes  telling 
to  "falsing."  As  is  omitted  before  "To  credit."  Cf.  M.  of  F.  iii.  3.  9  : 
"so  fond  to  come  abroad,"  etc.     Gr.  281. 

106.  Dost  thou  hear?     On  S.'s  use  oi  Ihon  andjjw^,  see  Gr.  231-235. 

107.  Screen.  "  Prospero  was  the  screen  behind  which  the  traitorous 
Antonio  governed  the  people  of  Milan  "  (Daniel). 

109.  Me, poor  man!  As  for  me.  Gr.  201,  D.  says  '''■For  me  .  .  .  large 
enough,"  and  compares  T.  of  A.  v.  i.  63  : 

"Whose  thankless  natures — O  abhorred  spirits! — 
Not  all  the  whips  of  heaven  are  large  enough,"  etc. 

III.  Confederates.     Conspires;  the  only  instance  of  the  verb  in  S. 


ACT  I.     SCENE  ir.  115 

,  112.  Dry.  Thirsty.  Wr.  says  that  this  sense  is  "still  common  in  pro- 
vincial English  ;"  and  so  it  is  in  Yankee  English.  Cf.  i  Hen.  IV.\.'^.T)\, 
2  Hni.  VI.  iv.  10.  14,  etc. 

^'  117.  Hh  condition  and  the  event.     "The  condition  he  made  with  the 
King  of  Naples,  and  the  consequences  which  followed"  "(Wr.). 
-   i\%.  Mii^ht  be.     Could  be.     bee  Gr.  312. 
119.   To  think  but  noblv.     That  is,  otherwise  than  nobly.     Gr.  124. 

122.  Hearkens.    Cf  2  Hen.  IV.  ii.  4.  303  :  "  Hearken  the  end."    Gr.  199. 

123.  In  lien  o'  the  premises.  In  consideration  of.  Cf.  "in  lieu  thereof" 
{T.  G.of  V.  ii.  7.  88,  and  L.  L.  L.  iii.  i.  130),  "  in  lieu  whereof"  (A'.  John, 
V.  4.  44),  etc. 

125.  Presently.     Immediately;  as  in  iv.  i.  42  below. 

134.  A  hint.    A  cause,  or  subject.     Cf.  "  our  hint  of  woe,"  ii.  r.  3  below. 

137.  The  -which.     See  Gr.  270. 

138.  Impertinent.  Irrelevant ;  used  by  S.  only  here  and  (by  I>aunce- 
lot)  in  M.  of  V.  ii.  2.  146.  Cf.  the  one  instance  oi  impertineucy  in  Lear, 
iv.  6.  178. 

^  139.  IVench.  This  word  originally  meant  young  woman  only,  without 
the  contempt  now  annexed  to  it.  Cf  Hen.  VIII. \v.  2.  167:  "When  [ 
am  dead,  good  wench,"  etc.  ;  0th.  v.  2.  272 :  "  O,  ill-starred  wench  !"  etc. 

144.  In  few.  In  short.  Cf.  Hun.  i.  3.  126:  "in  few,  Ophelia,"  etc. 
See  Gr.  5. 

1^6.  Boat.  The  folios  have  "butt"  or  "but;"  corrected  by  Rowe 
(from  Dryden's  version). 

148.  Hive  quit.  The  reading  of  the  folio,  changed  to  "had  quit"  by 
D.     For  qriit,  see  on  betid,  31  above.     Hoist  is  a  similar  contraction. 

151.  Dill  Its  but  loving  wrong.  Only  injured  us  by  their  sympathetic 
sighing,  that  is,  blowing. 

152.  A  cherubin.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  folio  here,  as  well  as  in 
T.of  A.  iv.  3.  63,  Macb.  i.  7.  22,  0th.  iv.  2.  63,  and  L.  C.  319,  the  only  other 
places  in  which  S.  uses  the  singular,  e.\'cept  Hani.  iv.  3.  50,  where  cherub 
("Cherube"  in  folin)  occurs.  He  uses  cherubins  as  the  plural  in  xM.  of 
V.  v.  I.  62,  Hen.  VIII.  i.  i.  23,  T.  and  C.  iii.  2.  74,  and  Cymb.  ii.  4.  88. 
Neither  cherubim  nor  cherubnns  is  to  be  found  in  the  folio,  though  both 
are  given  in  most  modern  editions  and  in  Mrs.  Clarke's  Concordance. 

154.  Infused.  Inspired,  filled  ;  as  in  Kich.  II.  iii.  2.  166,  3  Hen.  VI.  v. 
4.  41,  7.  (":.i.  3.  69,  etc. 

155.  Declid.  "  Here  deck'd  would  appear  to  be  a  form,  if  it  be  not  a 
corruption,  of  the  provincialism  Jegg\l,  i.  ^.sprinkled''''  (D.). 

157.  An  undergoing  stomach.  A  sustaining  courage.  Cf.  2  Hen.  IV. 
i.  I.  129:  "  Gan  vail  his  stomach"  (began  to  let  his  courage  sink),  and 
Ham.  i.  I.  100:  "some  enterprise  That  hath  a  stomach  in  't"  (that  re- 
quires courage).  Elsewhere  it  means  anger,  resentment,  as  in  T.  G.of 
V.  i.  2.  68  :  "  kill  your  stomach  on  your  meat  ;"  and  pride,  arrogance,  as 
in  //(■«.  VIII.  iv.  2.  34:  "  He  was  a  man  of  an  unbounded  stomach." 

162.  Who  beiui;,  etc.  A  confused  construction.  Tope  omits  who,  and 
Ca])ell  changes  it  to  "he." 

165.  Have  steaded  much.  Have  been  of  much  service.  Sec  M.  of  V. 
p.  133,  note  on  Can  you  stead  me  ? 


it6  Azotes. 

169.  But  ever  see  that  man.     But  see  that  man  at  any  time.     Gr.  39. 

Now  I  arise.  It  is  doubtful  what  this  means.  The  stage-direction, 
Puts  on  his  robe,  or  Kesiivies  his  roi-e,  given  in  some  editions,  is  not  found 
in  the  folio,  but  is  due  to  Mr.  Collier's  .MS.  corrector.  St.  suggests  that 
the  words  are  spoken  aside  to  Ariel.  \Vr.  thinks  they  mean  that  "  the 
crisis  of  his  fortune  was  come,"  and  quotes  what  Prospero  says  in  181-184. 
See  Addenda  Ijelow. 

172.  Made  thee  more  profit  Than  other  princess  can.  Profit  is  here  a  verb. 
Princess  (the  reading  of  the  folio)  is  here  for  princesses.  As  Abbott  (Gr. 
471)  has  shown,"  the  plural  and  possessive  cases  of  nouns  of  which  the 
singular  ends  in  s,  se,  jr,  ce,  and  ge,  are  frequently  written,  and  still  more 
frequently  i^ronounced,  without  the  additional  syllable."  Cf  Mach.  v.  i.  29 
(folio) :  "  Their  sensez.\&  shut ;"  Hen.  V.  v.  2.  28  :  "  Your  mightiness  on  both 
parts  best  can  witness,"  etc.  W.  adopts  Rowe's  emendation  of  "  princes," 
and  gives  quotations,  to  show  that  "women  as  well  as  men  of  loyal  or 
ducat  birth  were  called  prince  in  S.'s  cfay."  But  S.  himself  does  not  use 
prince  for  princess,  while  it  is  evident  that  he  does  drop  the  -es  or  V  in 
not  a  few  such  words.     D.  gives  "princess'." 

179.  Now  my  dear  lady.  Now  friendly  to  me  ;  or,  as  Steevens  puts  it, 
"now  my  aus|)icious  mistress."     Cf  Lear,  ii.  i.  42. 

181.  I  find  my  zenith,  etc.  Cf.  J.  C.  iv.  3.  218  :  "  There  is  a  tide  in  the 
affairs  of  men,"  etc. 

185.  Thou  art  inclind  to  sleep.  It  is  not  easy  to  decide  whether  Miranda 
is  put  to  sleep  by  the  art  of  Prospero,  or  falls  asleep  from  the  effect  of  the 
strange  things  she  has  seen  and  heard.  The  latter  view  is  well  put  by 
Franz  Horn,  who  says  :  "  The  wonderful  acts  occasionally  like  the  music 
upon  Jessica  in  the  fifth  act  of  The  Merchant  of  Venice.  The  external 
miracles  of  nature  scarcely  affect  Miranda  upon  an  island  where  nature 
itself  has  become  a  wonder,  and  the  wonders  have  become  nature.  But 
for  her,  even  on  that  account,  there  are  only  so  many  greater  wonders  in 
the  heart  and  life  of  man.  .  .  .  The  checkered  course  of  the  world,  its 
wild  passions,  are  to  her  wholly  strange  ;  and  the  relation  of  such  won- 
ders might  well  affect  her  in  the  manner  her  father  fears." 

190.  To  answer  thy  /'est  pleasure  ;  be  V  to  fly,  etc.  Henley  quotes  the 
imitation  of  this  passage  by  Fletcher,  in  77^1?  Faithful  Shepherdess : 

"  Tell  me,  sweetest, 
Wliat  new  service  now  is  meetest 
For  the  satyre ;  shall  I  stray 
In  the  middle  ayre,  and  stay 
The  saiiing  rack,  or  nimbly  take 
Hold  by  the  moone,  and  gently  make 
Suit  to  the  pale  queene  of  night, 
For  a  beame  to  give  thee  light? 
Shall  I  dive  into  the  sea, 
And  bring  thee  coral,  making  way 
Through  the  rising  waves,"  etc. 

193.  Ariel  and  all  his  quality.  That  is,  all  his  ability,  his  powers.  D. 
explains  it  as  "all  those  occupied  in  similar  services,  all  his  fellows." 

194.  Performed  to  point.  Exactly,  to  the  minutest  point ;  like  the 
French  cl  point.     See  Gr.  187. 


ACT  I.     SCEXE  II. 


117 


197.  The  ivaist.  "That  part  of  a  ship  which  is  contained  between  tlie 
quaitei-deck  and  the  forecastle"  (Falconer's  Marine  Dictionary). 

19S.  /  \i  divide.  Will  and  would  are  sometimes  used  to  express  a  re- 
peated or  cnstoinary  action.  Gr.  330.  Cf.  (2///.  i.  3.  147:  "But  still  the 
house  affairs  would  draw  her  hence;"  and  below,  iii.  2.  132:  "Some- 
times a  thousand  twangling  instruments  Will  hum  about  mine  ears."  So 
in  Gray's  Elegy :  "  His  listless  length  at  noontide  would  he  stretch,"  etc. 

200.  Distinctly.  In  its  original  sense  oi separately.  An  allusion  to  the 
electrical  phenomenon  known  as  Saint  Elmo's  fire.  In  Hakluyt's  Voyages 
(1598)  there  is  the  following  description  of  it,  which  S.  may  have  had  in 
mind :  "  I  do  remember  that  in  the  great  and  boysterous  storme  of  this 
foule  weather,  in  the  night  there  came  upon  the  toppe  of  our  maine  yard 
and  maine-mast  a  certaine  little  light,  much  like  unto  the  light  of  a  little 
candle,  which  the  Spaniards  call  the  Cnerpo  Santo.  This  light  contin- 
ued aboord  our  ship  about  three  houres,  flying  from  maste  to  maste,  and 
from  top  to  top  ;  and  sometimes  it  would  be  in  two  or  three  places  at 
once." 

207.  Coil.  Turmoil,  tumult.  Cf.  T.  of  A.  i.  2.  236  :  "  what  a  coil  's  here  !" 
R.  and  y.  ii.  5.  67  :  "  here  's  such  a  coil !"  etc.  Cc//j/rt«/  =  self-possessed. 
Cf.  M.of  V.x>.  151. 

209.  Fever  of  the  mad.     Fever  of  delirium. 

212.  Afire.     See  Gr.  24. 

213.  With  hair  up-staring.  See  Gr.  429.  Cf.  J.  C.  iv.  3  280:  "That 
makest  my  blood  cold  and  my  hair  to  stare." 

218.  Their  sustaining  garments.  Bearing  or  resisting  the  effects  of  the 
water  (Mason  and  Schmidt).  Some  explain  it  as  "bearing  them  up  in 
the  water."     H.  adopts  Spedding's  conjecture  of  "  unstaining." 

222.  Cooling  of  the  air.  See  Gr.  178.  Cf  3  Heji.  VI.  ii.  5.  3  :  "  blowing 
of  his  nails  ;"  f.  C.  v.  3.  38  :   "  saving  of  thy  life,"  etc. 

224.  ///  this  sad  knot.     Folded  thus.     Cf  Ham.  i.  5.  174. 

229.  Still-vex\i  Bermoothes.  Tlie  ever-disturbed  Bcrniudas.  "The  ep- 
ithet here  applied  to  the  Bermudas,"  says  Henley,  "will  be  best  under- 
stood by  those  who  have  seen  the  chafing  of  the  sea  over  the  rugged 
rocks  by  which  they  are  surrounded,  and  which  render  access  to  them  so 
dangerous."     On  j//7/  =  ever,  see  M.  of  V.  p.  128. 

231.  Who,  with  a  charm.     See  on  80  above. 

232.  For  the  rest.     OnyOr  — as  for,  as  regards,  see  Gr.  149. 
234.  Flole.     Flood,  wave  ;  used  by  S.  only  here. 

240.   Two  glasses.     Two  turns  of  tlie  hour-glass,  two  hours. 

242.  Dost  give  me  pains.     Dost  give  me  hard  work  to  do. 

243.  /.(■/  me  remember  thee.  Remind  thee.  Gr.  291.  Cf  W.  T.  iii.  2. 
231  :  "I  '11  not  remember  you  of  my  own  lord,"  etc.  It  is  sometimes 
used  in  a  similar  sense  (  =  mention)  intransitively;  as  in  2  Hen.  IV.  v. 
2.  142: 

"  Our  coronation  done,  we  will  accile, 
As  I  before  remeniber'd,  all  our  state." 

Cf  403  below:  "The  ditty  does  remember  (mention,  or  commemorate) 
my  dnnvn'd  father."  The  passive  form  to  he  remembered  is  somciimes 
=  to  call  to  mind,  to  recollect ;  as,  "  If  you  be  remembcr'd  "  {.M.  for  .J/u 


ii8  NOTES. 

ii.  I.  no  and  T.  of  S.  iv.  3.96),  "I  am  remember'd"  {A.  Y.  L.  iii.  5.  131), 
"  Be  you  remember'd  "  {T.  A.  iv.  3.  5),  etc. 

244.  Is  not  yet  perform'' d  31/ e.  The  r?ie  is  the  "indirect  object"  of  the 
verb.     Gr.  220.     Cf.  255  below:  "To  do  me  business." 

249.  Grudge.  Murmur,  repining.  '^c\\vmA\  xwt^V^s  gnulge  or  grumblings 
=  "grudgings  or  grumblings."  Cf.  Gr.  397,  398.  For  the  verb  in  this 
sense,  see  Miicit  Ado,  iii.  4.  90:   "  he  eats  his  meat  without  grudging,"  etc. 

250.  To  bate  me.  Cf.  A.  IV.  ii.  3.  234:  "I  will  not  bate  thee  a  scru- 
ple," etc. 

252.  To  tredd  the  ooze.  The  bottom  (not  the  margin)  of  the  sea.  Cf. 
Hen.  V.  i.  2.  164:  "the  ooze  and  bottom  of  the  sea;"  and  below,  iii.  3. 
100 :   "  my  son  i'  the  ooze  is  bedded." 

258.  Envy.     Malice  ;  as  often.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  156. 

265.  Argier.  The  old  name  for  Algiers.  It  was  not  obsolete  even  in 
Dryden's  day.     See  his  Limberham,  ii\.  i  :   "you  Argier's  man." 

266.  One  thing  she  did.  But  what  it  was  the  poet  nowhere  tells  us. 
It  may  have  been  mentioned,  Boswell  thinks,  in  the  novel  on  vvhich  the 
play  was  probably  founded.     H.  changes  did  to  "  had  "  (cf.  269). 

269.  T/iis  blue-eyed  hag.  Staunton  suggests  "blear-eyed;"  but  cf.  A. 
V.  L.  p.  178  (on  347),  or  R.  and  J.  p.  172  (on  39). 

271.  IVast  then.  The  folio  has  "was  then,"  and  (as  Walker  suggests) 
that  may  be  what  S.  wrote.  So  in  332  below  the  folio  has  "stroked'st 
and  made  much  of  me." 

272.  And  for  thou  wast.  And  because  thou  wast.  See  Gr.  151,  and 
AI.  of  V.  ]).  134,  note  on  For  he  is  a  Christian. 

274..  Hests.  Commands.  Sometimes  printed  "'hests,"  but  it  is  not  a 
contraction  oi  behests.  It  is  used  again  in  iii.  i.  37  ("I  have  broke  your 
hest"),  and  in  iv.  1.65  ("spongy  xA.pril  at  thy  best  betrims  ") ;  and  also 
by  Wiclif,  Chaucer,  Spenser,  etc.     Cf.  Wb. 

277.  Into  a  iloven  pine.  We  sometimes  find  into  for  /;/  "  with  verbs 
of  rest  implying  motion"  (Gr.  159).  See  359  below.  Cf.  Rich.  III.  v.  5. 
51  :  "Is  all  my  armour  laid  into  my  tent.'"  So  we  often  find  in  with 
verbs  of  motion.  Cf  M.  of  V.  v.  i.  56:  "creep  in  our  ears  ;"  Ham.  v.  i. 
301  :  "  leaping  in  her  grave,"  etc.     "  Fall  in  love  "  is  still  a  familiar  idiom. 

284.  Caliban.  Farmer  says,  "  The  3?ietathesis  in  Caliban  from  Canibal 
is  evident." 

297.  Correspondent  to  command.  That  is,  obedient  to  command.  See 
Gr.  p.  12  (viii.). 

298.  And  do  my  spriling  gently.  Do  my  work  as  a  spirit  meekly,  or 
with  good  will  (as  opposed  to  moody  above).  Some  editors  print  "spir- 
iting," but  the  folio  has  "spryting."  Spirit  is  often  virtually  a  monosyl- 
lable.    Gr.  463. 

301.  Go  make  thyself  etc.     The  folio  reads  thus  : 

"  Goe  make  thy  selfe  like  a  Nymph  o'  th'  Sea. 
Be  subiect  to  no  sight  but  thine,  and  mine :  inuisible 
To  euery  eye-ball  else,"'  etc. 

This  is  well  enough  with  a  slight  change  in  arrangement,  as  in  the  text ; 
but  Steevens  omits  the  thine  as  "  ridiculous,"  and  prints  the  lines  as  fol- 
lows: 


ACT  I.    SCExVE  II. 


"  Go  make  thyself  like  to  a  nymph  o'  the  sea  ; 
Be  subject  to  no  sight  but  mine  ;  invisible,"  etc 


119 


This  reading  is  adopted  by  D.  and  H. 

311.  Aliss.  Do  without.  Schmidt  compares  Sonn.  122.S,  A.  fF.  i.  3. 
262,  and  Cor.  ii.  i.  253.  Wr.  quotes  Lyly,  Euphues :  "so  necessary  that 
we  cannot  misse  them." 

316.  Coiue,  thou  tortoise!  when?  Cf.  J.  C.  ii.  I.  5:  "When,  Lucius, 
when  ?"     See  also  M.  of  V.  p.  141,  note  on  What,  Jessica  ! 

3 1 7.  Eine  (ipparitioH  !  My  quaint  Ariel.  So  below,  "  fine  spirit,"  "  fine 
Ariel,"  and  "delicate  Ariel."     On  quaint,  see  AI.  of  V.  p.  141. 

320.  IVicked.  Baneful,  poisonous.  CL<Z\\2inctY,  Rom.  0/ the  Rose :  '^  3. 
fruict  of  savour  wicke." 

322.  Sonth-zuest.  On  the  southerly  winds  as  associated  by  S.  with  fog, 
rain,  and  unwholesome  vapours,  see  Cor.  p.  206. 

325.  Urihins.  Mischievous  elves.  CL  AI.  fFiiv.  4.  49:  "  urchins,  ouphes 
(elves),  and  fairies."  They  were  probably  called  so  because  they  some- 
times took  the  form  of  urchins,  or  hedgehogs.  Cf.  Caliban's  account  of 
Prospero's  spirits  in  ii.  2.  5  fol.  below., 

326.  7 hat  vast  of  flight.  That  void,  waste,  or  empty  stretch.  Tn  Ham. 
i.  2.  198,  the  quarto  of  1603  has  "  In  the  dead  vast  and  middle  of  the 
night."     Cf.  our  ed.  p.  186. 

328.  Honeycomb.     Plural  (as  made  up  of  cells) ;  used  by  S.  only  here. 
332.  Aliifst.     The  folios  have  "made  ;"  corrected  by  Kowe  (following 
Dryden).     See  on  271  above. 

342.  Whiles.     See  AI.  of  V.  p.  133,  or  Gr.  137. 

349.  Abhorred  slave,  etc.  The  folio  gives  this  speech  to  Miranda,  but 
this  is  obviously  an  error  of  the  type  ;  corrected  by  Dryden  and  Theo. 

350.  Which.     On  -which— 7uho,  see  Gr.  265. 
359.  Cotifin'd  into  this  rock.     See  on  277  above. 

361.  On  V.     Of  it.     See  AI  of  V.  p.  143,  or  Gr.  1S2. 

362.  The  red  plague.  The  leprosy.  See  Levit.  xiii.  42,  43.  Steevens 
explains  it  as  the  erysipelas.     Cf.  Cor.  p.  249,  note  on  13. 

Rid  you.  Destroy  you.  Cf  Rich.  II.  v.  4.  1 1  :  "  will  rid  his  foe,"  and 
3  Hen.  VI.  v.  5.  67 :   "you  have  rid  this  sweet  young  prince." 

363.  Learning  me  your  language.  Cf  Cymb.  i.  5.  12  :  "  Hast  thou  not 
learned  me  how  To  make  perfumes  ?"  In  old  English  the  word  meant 
to  teach  as  well  as  to  learn.     See  Gr.  291. 

364.  Thou  'rt  best.  Cf.  y.  C.  iii.  3.  13  :  "  Ay,  and  truly,  you  were  best." 
For  other  examples  of  this  old  idiom,  see  Gr.  230. 

367.  Old  cramps.  Abundant  cramps.  On  this  intensive  or  augmenta- 
tive use  oi  old  in  colloquial  language,  see  AI.  of  V.  p.  161. 

368.  Aches.  The  noun  ache  used  to  be  pronounced  aitch,  but  the  verb 
ahe  (as  it  is  often  printed).  Baret,  in  his  Ahearie  (1580),  says  :  "  Ahe  is 
the  Verbe  of  the  substantive  ach,  ch  being  turned  into  X-."  That  the 
noun  was  pronounced  like  the  name  of  the  letter  //  is  evident  from  a  pun 
in  Aluch  Ado,  iii.  4.  56  : 

"  Beatrice.  ...  By  my  troth.  I  am  exceeding  ill  !     Heigh-ho  I 
Margaret.   For  a  hawk,  a  horse,  or  a  husband  ? 
Btatrice.   For  the  letter  that  begins  them  all,  H." 


I20  A'OTKS. 

There  is  a  similar  joke  in  T/ie  IVor/a  Knits  upon  Wheels,  by  John  Tavlor, 
the  Water-Poet :  "  Every  cart-horse  doth  know  the  letter  G  very  under- 
staiidingly  ;  and  H  hath  he  in  his  bones."  Boswell  quotes  an  instance 
of  this  pnmuncialion  from  Swift,  and  Dyce  one  from  Blackmore,  A.D. 
1705.  When  John  Kenible  first  played  Prospero  in  London,  he  pro- 
nounced aches  in  this  passage  as  a  dissyllable,  which  gave  rise  to  a  great 
dispute  on  the  subject  among  critics.  During  this  contest  Mr.  Kemble 
was  laid  up  with  sickness,  and  Mr.  Cooke  took  his  place  in  the  play. 
Everybody  listened  eagerly  for  his  pronunciation  of  aches,  but  he  left  I  he 
-whole  line  out;  whereu]3on  the  following  appeared  in  the  papers  as 
'"  Cookers  Soliloquy :'''' 

'^  A  itches  or  akes.,  shall  I  speak  both  or  either? 
If  atces  I  violate  my  Slialiespeare's  measure — 
\i  III!  dies  I  shall  give  King  Johnny  pleasure; 
1  've  hit  upon  't — by  Jove,  I  '11  utter  neither !" 

369.  That.     So  that ;  as  in  85  above:     Gr.  283. 

No,  pray  thee.  This  omission  of /before /yvy  thee,  beseech  thee,  etc.,  is 
very  common.     See  Gr.  401. 

371.  Setchos.  S.  probably  got  this  name  from  the  account-  of  Magel- 
lan's voyages  in  Robert  Eden's  History  of  Travaile  (A.D.  1577),  where 
it  is  said  of  the  Patagonians  that  "  they  roared  Ivke  bulles,  and  cryed 
uppon  their  great  devil),  Setebos,  to  help  them."  Malone  says  that  Sete- 
bos  is  also  mentioned  in  Hakluyt's  Voyages,  1598. 

375.  Curtsied.  So  spelled  iii  the  folios.  Curtsy  and  courtesy  are  two 
forms  of  the  same  word,  both  found  in  the  folio.  In  a  single  speech  in 
y.  C.  (iii.  I.  35  fob),  we  have  "courtesies"  and  "curtsies." 

A]id  kiss\i  The  ivild  7vaves  -whist.  That  is,  kissed  the  wild  waves 
into  silence  ;  "  a  delicate  touch  of  poetry  that  is  quite  lost  as  the  passage 
is  usually  ]irinted,  the  line  The  wild  'waves  ivli/st  being  made  parenthet- 
ical, and  that,  too,  without  any  authority  from  the  original  "  (H.).  IVhist 
is  the  partici])le  of  the  old  verb  ?<:'///>/,  which  is  found  both  transitive  and 
intransitive.  Lord  Surrey  translates  the  first  line  of  Book  IL  of  the 
yEneid:  "They  whisted  all,  with  fixed  face  attent."  Cf.  -Spenser,  F.  Q. 
vii.  7.  59  :  "  So  was  the  Titanesse  put  downe  and  whist."  ]\Iilton  {Hymn 
on  Nativ.)  has  the  same  rhyme  as  here  : 

"  The  winds  with  wonder  whist 
Smoothly  the  waters  kiss'd." 

377.  Foot  it  feallv.  Dexterously,  neatly.  D.  quotes  Lodge's  Glnncus 
and Scilla  (1589):  "Footing  it  featlie  on  the  grassie  ground."  Cf.  IV.  T. 
iv.  4.  176:  "she  dances  fently."  We  have  the  adjective  (used  adverbi- 
ally) below,  ii.  i.  268  :  "  much  feater  than  before  ;"  and  the  verb  in  Cynib. 
i.  1.49:   "a  glass  that  feated  them."     On  the  //,  see  Gr.  226. 

386.  Where  should  this  music  be?  "  Should  was  used  in  direct  ques- 
tions about  the  past  where  shall  was  used  about  the  future"  (Gr.  325). 

389.  Weeping  again.  That  is,  again  and  again.  Gr.  27.  Cf.  Jlf.  of  V. 
iii.  2.  205  :   "  For  wooing  here  until  I  sweat  again." 

^gi.  Passion.     Sorrow.     C(.  Ham.  p.  212. 

392.  With  it's  sweet  air.    \n  the  folio  its  occurs  but  once  {M.  for  M.  i.  2. 


ACT  I.     SCEXE   If.  12  1 

4),  while  it's  is  found  nine  times.  It  as  a  genitive  (or  "possessive")  is 
found  fourteen  times,  in  seven  of  which  it  precedes  o7vii.  This  //  is  "an 
early  provincial  form  of  the  old  genitive."  In  our  version  of  the  Bible  Us 
is  found  only  in  Lcvit.  x.xv.  5,  where  the  original  edition  has  "of  it  own 
accord."     See  Gr.  228  ;  and  cf.  IV.  T.  p.  172,  note  on  178. 

395.  Full  fathoni  five.  The  folio  has  "  fadoni,"  which  Halliwell  and 
White  prefer  to  retain.     In  A.  V.  L.  iv.  i.  210  the  folio  has  "fathome." 

396.  Of  his  bones  are  coral  made.  S.  may  have  written  are  to  avoid  the 
harshness  of  "  bones  is,"  but  the  inaccuracy  is  probably  to  be  classed 
with  those  given  by  Abbott  (Gr.  412)  under  "contusion  of  proximity." 

397.  Those  are  pearls,  etc.  In  I\ich.  III.  iv.  4.  322  we  have  tears 
"  transform'd  to  orient  pearl." 

403.  Diiii^,  </oiig,  I'ill-     Cf.  the  Soiii^  in  /!/.  of  V.  iii.  2. 
405.  Nor  no  sound.     On  the  double  negative,  see  M.  of  V.  p.  131,  and 
Gr.  406.     Cr<'^i~owns  ;  as  in  453  ^'I'l  '"•  i-  45  below.     Cf.  Gr.  290. 

407.  The  fringed  curtains  of  thine  eyes.  Cf.  Per.  iii.  2.  lOl  :  "  her  eye- 
lids Begin  to  part  their  fringes  of  bright  gold."  Advance  ~X2d&& ;  as  in 
iv.  I.  177  below.     Cf.  Cor.  p.  210. 

408.  IVhat  thou  seest  yond.  Yond  is  the  A.  S.  i^eond—illuc.  Yond, 
meaning  outrageous,  furious  (as  in  Spenser,  F.  Q.  iii.  7.26:  "As  Flori- 
mell  fled  from  that  Monster  yond  "),  is  probably  the  same  word. 

410.  A  brave fortn.     On  brave  =  'nwQ,  gallant,  etc.,  see  M.  of  V.  p.  154. 

413.  And,  but.     On  ^//  =  except,  etc.,  see  Gr.  120. 

414.  Canker.  Canker-worm  ;  a  favourite  metaphor  with  S.  Cf.  vl/.  N. 
D.  p.  150.  \\.  thinks  it  may  be  ="rust  or  tarnish"  (cf.  V.  and  A.  767 
and  R.  and  J.\.i.  102). 

420.  Most  snre,  the  goddess.     Cf.  the  O  dea  certe  of  Virgil  {Ain.  i.  328). 

421.  Vouchsafe  my  prayer  mav  know  .  .  .  and  that  yon  will.  Here  we 
have  '■  that  omitted  and  then  inserted  "  (Gr.  285).  Cf  Rich.  II.  v.  I.  38  : 
"Think  I  am  dead,  and  that  even  here,"  etc. 

426.  Maid.  A  maid,  and  not  n  goddess.  The  4th  folio  has  7nade  (that 
is,  created,  or  mortal),  which  some  modern  editors  ado])t. 

431.  A  single  thing.  A  feeljle  thing.  Cf  A/acb.  i.  3.  140:  "shakes  so 
my  single  state  of  man  ;"  /./.  i.  6.  16:   "poor  and  single  business,"  etc. 

437.  His  brave  son.  This  son  is  not  one  of  the  dramatis  persona,  nor 
is  he  elsewhere  mentioned  in  the  play.     See  Addenda  below. 

438.  More  braver.     See  on  19  above. 

Control  thee.    "  Confute  thee,  unanswerably  contradict  thee  "^  (Johnson). 
440.  Changed  eyes.    Exchanged  looks  of  love.    Cf.A.am/  C.  iii.  13.  156. 
442.  Do)ie  vourself  some  '•vro)ig.     Misrejiresented  yourself.     Cf.  M.  W. 
iii.  3.  221  :   "  You  do  yourself  mighty  wrong.  Master  Ford." 

445.  Fity  move  my  father.  An  examjilc  of  "  the  subjunctive  used  op- 
tatively."     See  Gr.  364. 

446.  O,  if  a  virgin,  etc.     On  the  ellipsis,  see  Gr.  387. 

449.  ///  cither's.   In  each  other's  ;  as  in  Sonn.  28.  5,  //en.  V.  ii.  2.  I06.  etc. 

452.  That  thou  attend  me.  "  'I"hc  subjunctive  after  verbs  of  command  and 
entreaty  is  especially  common  "  (Gr.  369).  For  the  omission  of  the  prcp- 
osition,  cf  A/,  of  V.  v.  i.  103  :  "  When  neitiier  is  attended,"  etc.     Gi.  2C0. 

453.  Owest  not.     Owncst  not.     Cf  405  above. 


122  A'OTES. 

456.  T/iere  'j-  nothing  ill  can  dwell.  On  the  omission  of  the  relative, 
see  Gr.  244. 

460.  /'//  VI  a  uncle  thy  neck  and  feet  together.  The  cut  illustrates  this 
niocie  of  punishment  better  than  any  description  could  do. 


467.  Gentle,  and  7iot  fearful.  Of  gentle  blood,  and  therefore  no  coward. 
Smollett  (in  Hiitnphrey  Clinker-)  says  :  "  To  this  day  a  Scotch  woman  in 
the  situation  of  the  young  lady  in  Tlie  Tempest  would  e.xpress  herself 
nearly  in  the  same  terms — Don't  provoke  him;  for,  being ^^«^/t',  that  is, 
high-spirited,  he  won't  tamely  bear  an  insult." 

468.  Mv  foot  my  tutor?  "Shall  my  heel  teach  my  head.''  Shall  that 
which  I  tread  upon  give  me  law.-"'  (V.)  Walker  proposes  "fool,"  which 
D.  and  H.  adopt. 

470.  Come  from  thy  ward.  Leave  thy  posture  of  defence.  Ward  was 
a  technical  term  in  fencing.  Cf  i  Hen.  IV.  ii.4.  215  :  "Thou  knowest 
mv  old  ward  ;  here  I  lay,  and  thus  I  bore  my  point." 

'472.  Beseech  you,  father  !     See  on  369  above. 

477.  There  is  no  more  such  shapes.  The  reading  of  the  folio,  changed 
by  many  editors  to  "  there  are."  But  "  there  is  "  is  often  found  preceding 
a  plural  subject.  Cf  Cymb.  iii.  i.  36 :  "  There  is  no  moe  such  Caesars  ;" 
Id.  iv.  2.  371  :   "  There  is  no  more  such  masters,"  etc.     Gr.  335. 

483.  N^erz'es.  Sinews  ;  the  only  meaning  that  Schmidt  recognizes. 
Cf.  Ham.  i.  4.  83,  Mach.  iii.  4.  I02,  Sonn.  120.  4,  etc. 

490.  Ail  corners  else  o'  the  earth.  All  other  parts.  Cf  M.  of  V.  ii.  7.  39  : 
"the  four  corners  of  the  earth"  (so  in  Isa.  xi.  12),  Cymb.  iii.  4.  39:  "all 
corners  of  the  world."  etc.  In  K.  John  (v.  7.  116)  we  find  "the  three 
corners  of  the  world."  ,.' 


ACT  11.     SCEXE  /. 
^  ACT  II. 


123 


■/ 

'  Scene  I. — 3.  Our  hint  oftvoe.     The  cause  of  our  sorrow.     See  on  i.  2. 

134  above. 

5.  The  masters  of  some  merchaut.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  folio,  and 
is  somewhat  doubtful,  though  masters  may  mean  ounters,  or  possibly  offi- 
cers. Steevens  suggested  "mistress"  (the  old  spelling  of  which  is  some- 
times "maistres"),  and  V.  thinks  it  "not  improbable"  that  this  was  S.'s 
word.  D.  and  others  read  "master."  The  Camb.  editors  conjecture 
"  master's  "  [sc.  wife).  The  first  men/taut  means  a  merchant  vessel,  or 
viei  chantviait,  as  we  say  even  now.  Malone  quotes  Dryden  {Parallel  of 
Poetry  and  Painting);  "Thus  as  convoy-ships  either  accon)pany  Or 
should  accompany  their  merchants." 

1 1.  Tlie  visitor.  An  allusion  to  priestly  visitants  of  the  sick  or  afflicted. 
Cf  M.itt.  XXV.  36. 

15.  One ;  tell.  There  may  be  a  play  on  one  and  on  (that  is, go  on),  the 
two  words  (see  Nares  on  One)  being  pronounced,  and  sometimes  writ- 
ten, alike.  7V//=count.  We  still  say  "all  told,"  "wealth  untold,"  "to 
tell  one's  beads,"  etc.,  and  a  te//er  is  one  who  counts  (monev,  votes,  etc.). 

19.  Dolonr.  Cf  the  same  play  upon  words  in  J/,  for  lif.  i.  2.  5c  and 
Lear,  ii.  4.  54.     Steevens  quotes  also  The  Tragedy  of  Hoffman,  1637  : 

"And  his  reward  be  thirteen  hundred  dollars, 
For  he  liath  driven  dolour  from  our  heart." 

28.  Which,  of^he  or  Adrian.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  folio.  Cf  J/. 
iV.  Z>.  iii.  2.  337: 

"Now  follow,  if  thou  dar'st,  to  try  whose  right, 
Of  thine  or  mine,  is  most  in  Helena.'" 

Walker  quotes  from  Sidney's  Arcadia:  "Who  should  be  the  former 
[that  is,  the  first  to  fight]  against  Phalantus,  of  the  black  or  the  ill-appar- 
elled knight."     Gr.  206,  409. 

31.  The  cockerel.     "I'he  yoinig  cock  ;  that  is,  Adrian. 

36.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  The  folio  gives  this  speech  to  Sebastian,  and  So, 
yon  're paid  to  Antonio,  and  perhaps  there  is  no  need  of  change.  On  the 
whole,  however,  I  prefer  to  follow  W.,  who  sini]ily  transposes  the  pre- 
fixes of  the  speeches  on  the  ground  that  "  .Antonio  won  the  wager,  and 
was  paid  by  having  the  laugh  against  Sebastian."  Theo.  gave  both 
speeches  to  Sebastian,  and  is  followed  by  D.,  \\.,  and  the  Camb.  editors. 
Capell  merely  changes  you  're  to  "  you  've."    K.  retains  the  folio  reading. 

43.  Temperance.  Temperature.  Antonio  takes  up  the  word  as  a  fe- 
male name,  and  it  was  so  used  by  the  Puritans. 

53.  Lush.  Juicy,  succulent,  luxuriant.  Not  elsewhere  used  liy  S., 
though  some  read  in  J/.  jW  D.  ii.  I.  251,  "Quite  overcanopied  with  lush 
woodbine"  where  the  folio  has  "luscious."     /,//.r/v=vigorous. 

55.  An  eye  of  green.  A  tinge  of  green.  Boyle  says,  "Red,  with  an 
eye  of  blue,  makes  a  purple." 

62.  Freshness  and  glosses.  The  folio  has  "freshnesse  and  glosses." 
pieshiiess  may  be  jilural,  like  princess  in  i.  2.  173  ("Than  other  princess 
can  "X     See  note  on  that  passage.     D.  reads  "gloss." 


124 


A'OTES. 


72.  A  paragon  to  their  queen.  For  their  queen.  Cf.  J.  C.  iii.  1.  143  :  "  I 
know  that  we  shall  have  him  well  to  friend  ;"  A'ich.  II.  iv.  I.  306 :  "  I  have 
,1  king  here  to  my  flatterer  ;"  also  Malt.  iii.  9,  Luke,  iii.  8,  etc.  Below  (iii. 
3.  54)  we  find  "that  iiath  to  instrument  tliis  lower  world."     Gr.  189. 

75.  \Vido7v  Diiio.     The  title  of  a  popular  song  of  that  day.     See  Per- 
cy's Reliqiies,  or  Child's  English  and  Scottish  Ballads,  vol.  vii.  p.  207. 
'  79.  Study  of  that.     Study  about  that ;  wonder  what  you  mean  by  it. 
See  Gr.  174. 

84.  The  miractt'ous  harp.  An  allusion  to  the  myth  of  Amphion,  who 
raised  the  walls  of  Thebes  by  the  power  of  his  music. 

106.  Ill  viv  rate.     In  my  estimation  or  reckoning.     Cf.  i.  2.  92  above. 

1 13.   Whose  enmity  he  Jlnug  aside,  etc.     Cf.  J.  C.  i.  2.  107  : 

"The  torrent  roar'd,  and  we  did  buffet  it 
With  lusty  sinews,  throwing  it  aside, 
And  stemming  it  with  hearts  of  controversy." 

117.  His  wave-zuorn  basis.     His  for  iti.     See  Gr.  228. 

118./  not  doubt.  This  transposition  of  not  is  quite  common.  See  be- 
low (v.  I.  38),  "whereof  the  ewe  not  bites,"  (113)  "I  not  l<now,"  and 
(303)  "I  not  doubt."  See  also  Gr.  305.  y4.fj-/(7^'//;/r'-=as  if  stooping.  Gr.  107. 

124.  Who  hath  cause  to  wet  the  grief  on  't.  Which  (the  eye)  hath  cause 
to  weep.  Cf.  2  Hen.  IV.  iv.  3.  120:  "The  heart  Who  great  and  puff'd 
up."     See  Gr.  264.     Some  make  %vho  refer  to  she. 

125.  Iiiiportuiid.  Accentedon  the  second  syllable,  as  regularly  in  S. 
Cf.  Ham.  p.  190. 

128.  Which  end  o'  the  beam  she\i  bow.  The  folio  has  "should  bow," 
which  is  probably  a  misprint  for  "sh'ould  bow." 

130.  Moe.     More  ;  as  in  v.  i.  234  below.     Cf.  M.  of  V.  p.  129. 

133.  The  dearest  d'  the  loss.  "Throughout  S.,  and  all  the  poets  of  his 
and  a  much  later  day,  we  find  this  ej^ithet  (dearest)  applied  to  that  person 
or  thing  which,  for  or  against  us,  excites  the  liveliest  interest.  ...  It  may 
be  said  to  be  equivalent  generally  to  very,  and  to  import  the  excess,  the 
utmost,  the  suf^erlative,  oi  i\\3.i  to  which  it  is  applied"  (Caldecott)'  Cf. 
"  dearest  foe  "  (Ham.  i.  2.  182),  etc.     See  also  v.  i.  146  below. 

140.  Had  I  plantation.  There  is  a  play  on  the  word  plantation.  Gon- 
zalo  uses  it  in  the  sense  ol  colony  (cf.  Bacon,  Ess.  33,  Of  Plantations),  but 
Antonio  takes  it  in  the  sense  o{ planting. 

144.  /'  the  coinmon-ivealth,  etc.  This  passage  is  evidently  copied  from 
Florio's  translation  of  Montaigne's  Essays,  published  in  1603,  and  there- 
fore aids  (see  page  8  above)  in  fixing  the  date  of  the  play.  W.  gives  the 
quotation  from  Florio,  as  follows  :  "  It  is  a  nation,  would  I  answere  Tlafo, 
that  hath  no  kinde  of  traffike,  no  knowledge  of  Letters,  no  intelligence  of 
numbers,  no  name  of  magistrate,  nor  of  politike  superioritie  ;  no  use  of 
service,  of  riches,  or  of  foverlie  ;  no  contracts,  no  successions,  no  dividen.es, 
no  occupation,  but  idle :  no  respect  of  kinred,  but  common  ;  no  app^rell, 
but  naturall  ;  no  manuring  of  lands  ;  no  use  of  wine,  corn,  or  mettle.  The 
very  words  that  import  lying,  falsehood,  treason,  dissimulation,  covetous- 
ness,  envie,  detraction,  and  pardon  were  never  heard  amongst  them."* 

*  The  original  runs  thus:  "C'est  une  nation,  diroy  ie  a  Platon,  en  laquelle  il  n'y  a 


ACT  II.     SCEXE  I. 


125 


149.  Tilth.  Tillage,  or  tilled  land;  as  in  M.  for  M.  iv.  I.  76:  "our 
tilth's  to  sow." 

160.  Of  it  man  kind.     See  on  i.  2.  392  above. 

Foison.  Plenty;  as  in  iv.  i.  no  below.  Cf.  Macb.  p.  240.  The  word 
is  F'rench  {fiiison  in  Old  French),  the  Latin  fnsio,  ixovn  fuudere. 

165.  To  excel.  As  to  excel.  Cf.  M.  of  V.  iii.  3.  9:  "So  fond  to  come 
abroad  ;"  and  see  Gr.  281. 

169.  Sensible  and  nivible.  Sensitive  and  excitable.  See  M.of  l'.\i.  145. 
Cf.  Ham.  ii.  2.  337  :  "the  clown  shall  make  those  laugh  whose  kings  are 
tickle  o'  the  sere  ;"  and  see  our  ed.  p.  206. 

176.  An  it  had  not  fallen  flat-long.  On  an,  see  Gr.  loi.  Flat-long,  that 
is,  as  if  struck  with  the  side  of  the  sword  instead  of  its  edge.  Flailing  \% 
used  in  the  same  sense;  as  in  Spenser,  F.  Q.\.  5.  iS  :  "  Tho  with  her 
sword  on  him  she  flatling  strooke." 

178.  Sphere.    Alluding  to  the  Ptolemaic  astronomy.    See  Ham.  ]\  254. 

180.  A  liatfnvling.  On  a,  see  Gr.  140.  Bat-fm'ling  was  a  method  of 
fowling  by  night,  in  which  the  birds  were  started  from  their  nests  and  stu- 
pefied by  a  sudden  blaze  of  light.  Markham,  in  his  Hunger'' s  Preiiention, 
or  the  Whole  Arte  of  Fowling,  says,  "  I  thinke  meete  to  proceed  to  Batte- 
fowling,  which  is  likewise  a  nighty  taking  of  all  sorts  of  great  and  small 
Birdes  which  rest  not  on  the  earth,  but  on  Shrubbes,  tal  Bushes,  Hathorne 
trees,  and  other  trees,  and  may  fitly  and  most  conueniently  be  used  in  all 
woody,  rough,  and  bushy  countries,  but  not  in  the  champaine." 

182.  Adventure  my  discretion.  That  is,  ventnre  or  risk  my  [character 
for]  discretion.     Cf.  Cymb.  i.6.  172  :  "  that  I  have  adventur'd  'I'o  try,"  etc. 

189.  Omit  the  heavy  offer  of  it.  Neglect  the  offer  of  its  heaviness. 
Omit  often  means  to  pass  over,  lay  aside,  or  neglect ;  as  in  i.  2.  183  above. 
Cf.  Oth.  ii.  I.  71  :  "do  omit  their  mortal  natures  ;"  A/,  for  M.  iv.  3.  77  : 
"What  if  we  do  omit  This  reprobate  till  he  were  well  inclin'd.''"  etc. 

202.  What  thou  shouldst  be.     On  shonld=zoitght,  see  Gr.  323. 

77/t'  occasion  speaks  thee.  "The  opportunity  which  now  occurs  shows 
what  you  are  intended  for  ;  that  is,  to  be  a  king"  (Jephson). 

211.  Wink'st.     Dost  shut  thine  eyes.     Cf.  2S0  below. 

215.  If  heed  me.  If  you  intend  to  heed  me.  Such  ellipses  in  condi- 
tional sentences  are  common  in  S.     See  Gr.  383-393. 

216.  Trebles  thee  o''er.  That  is,  over  again.  .See  Gr.  58^,  and  cf.  /)/. 
of  V.  iii.  2.  154  :  "  I  would  be  trebled  twenty  times  myself?' 

I  am  standing  water.  I  am  passive,  ready  to  listen  to  you  and  to  be 
influenced  by  you.  He  already  guesses  what  Antonio  means,  and  cher- 
ishes the  purpose  while  he  mocks  it. 

.Steevens  quotes  the  following  from  a  critic  in  the  Edinburgh  Magazine 
ior  Nov.  1786  :  "  Sebastian  introduces  the  simile  of  water.  It  is  taken  up 
by  Antonio,  who  says  he  will  teach  his  stagnant  water  to  flow.     '  It  has 

aulcune  espece  de  trafique,  nulle  cognoissance  de  lettres,  nulle  science  de  nombres,  mil 
nom  de  maRistrat  ni  de  superiority  politique,  nul  usage  de  service,  de  richesse  ou  de 
liaiivret^.  nuls  contracts,  nuiles  successions,  nuls  jiartages,  nulles  occupations  qu'oysilVes, 
nul  respect  de  parente  que  conimun,  nuls  vestements.  nulle  iigriculture,  mil  metal,  nul 
usage  de  vin  ou  de  bled  ;  las  paroles  mesmes  qui  signifient  le  mensonge,  la  trahison,  la 
dissimulation,  I'avarice,  I'envie,  la  detraction,  le  pardon,  inouyes." 


126  NOTES. 

already  learned  to  ebb,'  says  Sebastian.  To  which  Antonio  replies,  '  O, 
if  you  but  knew  how  much  even  that  metaphor,  which  you  use  in  jest, 
encourages  to  the  design  which  I  hint  at ;  how,  in  stripping  the  words  of 
their  common  meaning,  and  using  them  figuratively,  you  adapt  them  to 
your  own  situation  !'  "     On  ebbins;  men,  cf.  A.atni  C.  i.  3.  43. 

227.  T/iis  lord  of  weak  remembrance.  "This  lord  who,  being  now  in 
his  dotage,  has  outlived  his  faculty  of  remembering  ;  and  who,  once  laid 
in  the  ground,  shall  be  as  little  remembered  himself  as  he  can  now  re- 
member other  things  "  (Johnson). 

230.  He  V  a  spirit  of  persuasion.  Monck  Mason  thought  that  "he's" 
is  for  "he  has,"  not  "he  is,"  and  quoted  i  Hen.  IV.  i.  2.  170:  "  Well, 
mayst  thou  have  the  spirit  of  persuasion,"  etc.  Steevens  regarded  the 
words  "professes  to  persuade"  as  a  marginal  gloss  or  paraphrase,  which 
by  some  mistake  became  incorporated  with  the  text,  and  D.  ajjpears  to 
favour  this  view.  Johnson  could  "  draw  no  sense  "  from  "  this  entangled 
sentence,"  but  there  seems  to  be  no  sj^ecial  difficulty  in  it.  The  paren- 
thesis is  clearly  marked  in  the  folio,  thus  : 

"(For  hee 's  a  Spirit  of  perswasion,  onely 

Professes  to  perswade)  the  King  his  Sonne's  aliue,"  etc. 

238.  But  doubts  discovery  there.  But  doubts  whether  there  is  anything 
to  be  discovered  there.  The  folio  has  "doubt,"  which  the  Philadelphia 
editors  think  "  may  be  retained  ;"  "  but  doubt  "  being  considered  equal  to 
"  without  doubting,"  or  the  "  can  not  "  being  mentally  carried  on  :  "  [can 
not]  but  doubt  discovery  there."     Wr.  adopts  this  last  explanation. 

242.  Bevond  tnan''s  life.  An  obvious  and  intentional  hyperbole.  Hunt- 
er {Ne7v  Illustrations,  vol.  i.  p.  166)  thinks  that  Man's  Life  is  probably 
the  translation  of  the  name  of  some  African  city,  and  finds  an  ancient 
city,  named  Zoa,  not  far  from  Tunis. 

243.  Can  have  no  note.  Can  receive  no  information.  Cf.  Bacon,  Ess. 
49:  "that  if  Intelligence  of  the  Matter  could  not  otherwise  have  beene 
had  but  by  him.  Advantage  bee  not  taken  of  the  Note,  but  the  Partie  left 
to  his  other  Meanes." 

244.  The  man  f  the  moon.  This  is  one  of  the  oldest  of  popular  super- 
stitions. According  to  one  version,  the  man  who  gathered  sticks  on  the 
Sabbath  (Nnvib.  xv.  32  fol.)  was  imprisoned  in  the  moon  ;  but  another 
tradition  made  this  lunar  personage  to  be  Cain.  In  the  Testament  of 
Cresscid  (written  by  Henryson,  but  sometimes  ascribed  to  Chaucer)  we 
find  the  following  in  a  description  of  the  moon  (Laing's  ed.,  1865): 

"  Hir  gyse  was  gray,  and  full  of  spottis  blak, 

And  on  hir  breist  ane  churle  paintit  ful  evin, 
Beirand  ane  bunche  of  thornis  on  his  bak, 

Qiihilk  for  his  thift  micht  dim  na  nar  the  hevin." 

It  will  be  recollected  that  the  man  in  the  moon  is  one  of  the  characters 
in  the  clown's  play  in  M.  N.  D.     See  our  ed.  p.  185,  note  on  237. 

245.  She  from  whom.  That  is,  in  coming  from  whom.  The  folio  has 
"She  that  from  whom."  The  emendation  is  Rowe's,  and  is  generally 
adopted.     Pope  reads  "  She  for  whom  ;"  and  H.  "  She  too  for  whom." 

249.  In  yours  and  my  discharge.  Is  in  yours,  etc. ;  that  is,  "  depends 
on  what  you  and  I  are  to  perform  "  (Steevens).     "  Act  and  prologue  being 


ACT  II.     SCENE  I.  127 

technical  terms  of  the  stage,  dischat-ge  also  is  so  to  be  understood,  as  in 
M.  i\\  D.  i.  2.  95  :  'I  will  discharge  it  in  either  your  straw-colour  beard,' 
etc."  (Phila.  ed.).     Cf.  Macb.  i.  3.  128. 

254.  Measure  its  back.  Us  refers  to  that  which  is  supposed  to  "cry 
out,"  or  "every  cubit." 

257.  There  be,  etc.     See  Gr.  300. 

260.  Could  make  a  chough  of  as  deep  chat.  Could  train  a  chough  to 
talk  as  wisely.  Cf.  A.  IV.  iv.  i.  22  :  "  chough's  language,  gabble  enough, 
and  good  enough."  Yarrel  (History  0/  British  Birds)  observes  that  in 
tiie  description  of  Dover  Cliff  ("Tiie  crows  and  choughs  that  wing  the 
midway  air,"  Lear,  iv.  6.  13),  "possibly  S.  meant  jackdaws,  for  in  the  .)/. 
N.  D.  [iii.  2.  21]  he  speaks  of  'russet-pated'  (gray-headed)  choughs, 
which  term  is  applicable  to  the  jackdaw,  but  not  to  the  real  chough." 

264.  How  does  your  content  tender,  etc.  How  does  your  favourable 
judgment  regard.  For  /£>«(/£■;'  =  regard,  value,  cf.  Hen.  V.  ii.  2.  175  :  "  But 
we  our  kingdom's  safety  must  so  tender  ;"  A.  V.  L.  v.  2.  77  :  "  By  my  life, 
I  do  ;  which  I  tender  dearly,"  etc. 

268.  Muck /eater.  Much  more  neatly  or  trimly.  See  on  i.  2. 377  above. 
Gr.  I. 

271.  If  't  were  a  kibe,  etc.  If  it  were  a  sore  heel,  it  would  make  me  ex- 
change my  boot  for  a  slipper.  Cf.  Ham.  v.  i.  153  :  "  the  toe  of  the  peas- 
ant comes  so  near  the  heel  of  the  courtier,  he  galls  his  kibe." 

274.  Candied.  Congealed  (Schmidt)  ;  as  in  T  of  A.  iv.  2.  226  :  "Can- 
died with  ice,"  etc.   \Vr.  explains  it  as  "sugared  over,  and  so  insensible." 

2 So.  IVink.     See  on  211  above  ;  and  cf.  IV.  T.  i.  2.  317. 

282.  Should  not  upbraid.     On  should,  see  Gr.  322. 

283.  Suggestion.  Temptation,  "hint  of  villainy"  (Johnson).  Cf.  iv.  t. 
26  below.  The  verb  is  likewise  used  in  the  sense  of  temjn  ;  as  in  T.  G. 
of  V.  iii.  I.  34  :  "  Knowing  tiiat  tender  youth  is  soon  suggested,"  etc. 

287.  /  '//  come  by  Naples.  Cf.  M.  of  V.  i.  i.  4  :  "  But  how  I  caught  it, 
found  it,  or  came  by  it ;"  and  see  Gr.  145. 

290.  When  I  rear  my  hand.  Cf.  J.  C.  iii.  I.  30  :  "  Casca,  you  are  the 
first  that  rears  your  hand." 

291.  To  fall  it.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  135,  and  Gr.  291.     Cf.  v.  i.  64  below. 
294.    To  keep  them  lii'ing.     The   folio  reading.     D.  clianges  them  to 

"thee."  This  is  plausible;  but,  as  Wr.  suggests,  "  Ariel  is  half  apos- 
trophizing the  sleeping  Gonzalo,  and  half  talking  to  himself." 

301-304.  N'ow  .  .  .  matter?  We  adopt  the  arrangement  of  speeches 
given  by  St.  and  D.     The  folio  reads  thus  : 

"  Gon.  Now,  good  Angels  preserue  the  King. 

A  to.  Why  how  now  hoa ;  awake?  wliy  are  you  drawn?  wherefore  this  ghastly  look- 
ing? 
Gon.  What's  the  matter?" 

Cf  what  Gonzalo  says  in  312-315  below. 

303.  Why  are  you  draion?  Why  are  your  swords  drawn?  See  Gr. 
374.  Cf.  A',  and  J.  i.  I.  73  :  "  What,  art  thou  drawn  among  these  heart- 
less hinds  ?"     See  also  M.  N^.  D.  iii.  2.  402,  and  Hen.  l".  ii.  i.  39. 

314.  Shak'd.  S.  generally  uses  shook,  both  as  ]iast  tense  and  participle, 
but  he  has  shaked  in  five  instances,  three  being  the  participle.     Gr.  343. 

316.  That  'j  verity.     Pope  reads  "  That 's  verity,"     See  Gr.  78._       / 


128  NOTES. 

Scene  II. — 3.  Bv  inch-meal.  Inch  by  inch.  We  still  have  fiecemeal 
(not  used  by  S.),  but  inch-meal,  limb-vteai  (Cj'm/'.  i\.  4.  147:  "tear  her 
limb-meal"),  drop-vical,  and  other  compounds  of  the  kind  are  obsolete. 
Meal  here  is  the  A.  S.  mcel  (time,  portion),  not  vichi,  iitelo  (meal,  flour). 

5.  Urchin-shows.     Eltin  apparitions.     See  on  i.  2.  325  above. 

9.  Mow.  Make  faces.  Cf.  iv.  i.  47  below,  and  the  stage-direction  in  iii. 
3.  82,  "■with  vtocks  and  mows.''''  Not  from  vtotith,  as  some  have  made  it, 
but  (see  Diez,  Scheler,  and  Wb.)  from  the  Fr.  inane  (pouting,  wry  face). 

10.  After.     Cf.  iii.  2.  144  below.     Gr.  26. 

11.  Mojtnt  their  pricks.  Raise  their  prickles.  CL  Hen.  F///.  i.  i.  144  : 
"The  fire  that  mounts  the  liquor  till 't  run  o'er;"  and  /</.  i.  2.  305  : 
"  mounting  his  eyes." 

15.  And  to  torment  me.     For  the  and,  see  Gr.  95  and  96. 

20.  y<'«(/.     See  on  i.  2.  408  above. 

21.  Bombard.  Also  spelled  bumbard ;  a  large  flagon,  or  "  black-jack," 
made  of  leather.  Cf.  I  Hen.  IV.  ii.  4.  497  :  "  that  huge  bombard  of  sack." 
Fonl  probablv  means  black  with  age  and  decayed— ready  to  fall  to  pieces. 

26.  Poor-John.  A  cant  name  for  salted  hake,  a  coarse  and  cheap  kind 
of  fish.  Cf.  /?.  and  J.  i.  I.  37  :  "  'T  is  well  thou  art  not  fish  ;  if  thou  hadst, 
thou  hadst  been  poor  John."     So  in  Massinger's  Renegade,  i.  i  : 

"To  feed  upon  poor-john,  when  I  see  pheasants 
And  partridges  on  the  table." 

In  B.  and  F.'s  .Scornfid  Lady.  (ii.  3),  "pitch  and  poor-john"  are  men- 
tioned as  the  foul  odors  of  Thames  Street,  London. 

29.  Make  a  man.  That  is,  make  his  fortune.  Cf.  M.  A'".  D.  iv.  2.  18, 
I  Hen.  IV.  ii.2.  60,  etc. 

30.  Doit.     The  smallest  of  coin.     Cf.  M.  of  V.  p.  136. 

31.  A  dead  Indian.  Cf.  53  below  :  "savages  and  men  of  Ind."  There 
may  be  an  allusion  to  the  Indians  brought  home  by  Sir  Martin  Frobisher 
in  1576. 

36.  Gaberdine.     A  loose  frock.     Cf.  Af.  of  V.  p.  135. 

38.  Shroud.  Take  shelter.  Both  noun  and  verb  were  thus  used.  Cf. 
A.  and  C.  iii.  13.  71  :  "  Put  yourself  under  his  shroud"  (his  protection). 
See  also  Milton,  Cornus,  147:  "Run  to  your  shrouds;"  and  316:  "Or 
shroud  within  these  limits;"  Spenser,  F.  Q.  i.  i.  8  :  "therein  shrouded 
from  the  tempest  dread,"  etc. 

43.  S'cvabber.     One  who  sivabs  or  mops  the  decks.     Cf.  T.  N.  i.  5.  217. 

54.  Scaped.     Not  to  be  printed  "  'scaped."     See  Macb.  p.  214. 

55.  Proper.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  132  (note  on  A  proper  man's  picture\ 

57.  At  nostrils.  In  the  folio  this  is  printed  "at'  nostrils,"  and  may  be 
a  misprint  for  "at 's  nostrils  ;"  but  see  Gr.  90. 

69.  Afore.  This  form  was  common  in  old  English,  and  so  was  to-fore, 
which  we  find  in  T.  A.  iii.  i.  294 :  "  O,  would  thou  wert  as  thou  to-fore 
hast  been  !" 

70.  /  will  not  take  too  much  for  him.     That  is,  I  will  take  all  I  can  get. 
75.  Will  Qive  langnage  to  yon,  cat.     Alluding  to  the  proverb,  "Good 

liquor  will  make  a  cat'speak."     In  88  below  there  is  an  allusion  to  the 
proverb,  "  He  hath  need  of  a  long  spoon,  that  eats  with  the  devil." 

96.  Siege.  Stool,  excrement.  It  is  used  in  the  same  sense  by  Ben  Jon- 
son  and  Sir  Thomas  Browne.     Besides  its  ordinary  meaning,  it  has  also 


ACT  HI.     SCENE  I. 


129 


in  S.  the  sense  of  seat  {M.for  M.  iv.  2.  loi :  "  the  siege  of  justice  "),  and 
of  rank,  or  place  (Ham.  iv.  7.  77  :  "  the  unworthiest  siege  ;"  Olh.  i.  2.  22  : 
"men  of  ruyal  siege"). 

Moon-calf.  A  monstrosity,  supposed  to  be  occasioned  by  lunar  influ- 
ence. In  Holland's /Y;«ji/  (vii.  15)  we  find,  "a  moone-calfe,  that  is  to 
say,  a  lump  of  flesh  without  shape,  without  life." 

105.  An  if.     See  Gr.  101-103. 

1 10.  Sack.  A  name  applied  to  Spanish  and  Canary  wines.  Cf.  He7i. 
V.  p.  187. 

1 28.  IViy  dog  and  thy  bush.  See  on  ii.  i.  244  above.  The  bush  was 
the  bundle  of  sticks  connected  with  the  narrative  in  iVumb.  xv. 

132.  Afeard.     Used  interchangeably  with  afraid.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  144. 

133.  Well  drawn,  monster.     A  good  draught,  monster. 

154.  Crabs.  Crab-apiJJes.  "Roasted  crabs"  are  mentioned  in  L.  L. 
L.  V.  2.  395  and  M.  /V.  D.  ii.  i.  48.  Cf.  Lear,  i.  5.  16  :  "as  like  this  as  a 
crab  is  like  an  apple,"  etc. 

157.  Marmoset.  The  word  is  used  by  S.  only  here,  but  is  found  in 
Mandeville  and  other  early  writers. 

159.  Scamels.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  folio,  but  the  word  is  found 
nowhere  else.  Some  have  thought  it  a  diminutive  of  scam,  a  name  by 
which  the  limpet  is  said  to  be  known  in  some  parts  of  England  ;  others 
read  "sea-mells"  or  "sea-malls"  (the  latter  form  is  actually  found  as  the 
name  of  a  bird  in  Holme's  Acad,  of  Armory,  1688);  and  others  "stan- 
nels  "  or  "staniels."  Of  these  emendations  the  last  is  the  most  plausi- 
ble. Montagu  {Ornithological  Diet.)  says  that  the  "  Kestrel,  Stannel,  or 
Windhover  ...  is  one  of  our  most  common  species  [of  hawks],  especially 
in  the  more  rocky  situations  and  high  cliffs  on  our  coasts,  where  thev  breed.'''' 
The  bird  is  also  mentioned  by  S.  in  T.  N.  ii.  5.  124:  "And  with  what 
wing  the  staniel  checks  at  it  !"  At  least,  no  one  doubts  that  this  is  tiie 
correct  reading,  thougli  the  old  editions  print  "stallion." 

162.  Inherit.   Take  possession.  Cf.  the  transitive  use  in  iv.  i.  154  below. 

169.  Trenchering.  The  reading  of  the  folio,  changed  to  trencher  by 
Theo.,  D.,  II.,  and  most  of  the  editors  ;  but,  as  W.  remarks,  "surely  thev 
must  have  forgotten  that  Caliban  was  drunk,  and  after  singing  'firing' 
and  'requiring'  would  naturally  sing  'trenchering.'  There  is  a  drunken 
swing  in  the  original  line,  which  is  entirely  lost  in  the  precise,  curtailed 
rhythm  of  '  Nor  scrape  trencher,  nor  wash  dish.'  " 

172.  Hey-day.  The  folios  have  "high-day;"  corrected  by  Rowe.  Cf. 
Ric/i.  III.  p.  235. 

ACT  III. 

Scene  I. — l.  Painful=xtq\i\v\ng  pains,  or  laborious.  Cf.  L.  L.  I.  ii. 
1.23:  "painful  study;"  T.  of  S.\.  z.  149:  "painful  labour  both  bv  sea 
and  land."  Fuller  [Holy  fVar,  v.  29)  speaks  of  Joseph  as  "a  painful 
carpenter,"  and  in  his  Holy  State  (ii.  6)  he  says,  "O  the  holiness  of  their 
living,  and  painfulnoss  of  their  preaching  !" 

2.  Delight  in  them  sets  off'.  Delight  is  the  subject  of  .rets  (^^(  =  offsets). 
Cf.  Macb.  ii.  3.  55  :  "  The  labour  we  delight  in  physics  pain." 

6.  The  mistress  which.     See  Gr.  265. 

T 


I30 


AOTES. 


15.  Most  busy,  leas!  when  I  do  it.  "  This  is  the  great  citcx  of  the  play. 
Few  passages  in  S.  have  been  the  subject  of  more  conjecture,  and  to  none 
has  conjecture  been  applied  with  less  happy  results."  The  first  folio 
reads,  "Most  busie  lest,  when  I  doe  it;"  the  other  three  folios,  "Most 
busie  least,  when  I  do  it."  Pope  reads,  "  Least  busie  when  I  do  it." 
Theo.  gave  "Most  busie-less  when  I  do  it;"  and  Ur.  Johnson  puts 
"  busiless  "  into  his  Diet.,  citing  this  passage  to  justify  it.  Neither  Wore, 
nor  \Vb.  recognizes  the  word.  The  editors  from  Theo.  (1733)  down  to 
the  Var.  of  1821  adopted  "busiless."  The  difficulty  of  the  passage  is 
well  shown  by  the  vacillation  of  the  best  modern  critics.  D.  in  his  2d 
ed.  (1864)  says  that  "l)usiless"  is  "far  more  satisfactory,  on  the  whole, 
than  any  of  the  numerous  euicndations  that  have  been  proposed  ;"  while 
in  his  1st  ed.  (1857)  he  doubts  "if  so  odd  a  compound  ever  occurred  to 
anybody  but  the  critic  himself."  K.  in  1839  followed  Theo.,  but  in  1864 
he  adopts  the  reading  of  the  later  folips,  defending  it  thus  :  "  The  oppo- 
sition of  most  and  least  renders  the  line  somewhat  obscure  ;  but  if  we  omit 
most,  reading  '  Busy  least  when  I  do  it,'  the  sense  is  clear  enough.  It  is 
not  less  clear  with  most,  so  punctuated."  W.  in  his  Shakespeare'' s  Scholar 
(1854)  accepts  "busy-less,"  and  considers  "busiest"  to  be  "graceless 
and  inappropriate  ;"  but  in  his  edition  of  S.  (1857)  he  reads  "busiest," 
adding  this  note:  "The  present  text  is  the  happy  conjecture  of  Holt 
White.  ^«j/V,v/ of  course  refers  to  thoughts.  Ferdinand's  'sweet  thoughts' 
of  Miranda  were  busiest  wlTen  he  was  labouring  to  win  her."  H.  has 
"busiless  "  in  his  ist  ed.,  but  now  reads  "  Most  busy  when  I  do  it  least." 

Of  the  other  attempts  at  emendation  the  following  are  worthy  of  men- 
tion: that  of  the  Coll.  MS.,  "Most  busy-blest  when  I  do  it;"  Staunton's 
"  Most  busy  felt  when  I  do  it ;"  Spedding's  "  Most  busiest  when  idlest ;" 
the  Camb.  editors'  "  Most  busy  left  when  idlest  (cf  R.  and  J.  i.  i.  134) ;" 
and  Keightley's  "Most  busy,  lest  when  I  do  it — " 

I  have  preferred,  on  the  whole,  to  follow  Verplanck  and  retain  the 
reading  of  the  folios  ("lest"  and  "least"  may  be  regarded  as  identical), 
with  the  slight  change  in  punctuation.  The  passage  may  then  be  ex- 
plained as  follows  :  "  In  these  reflections  I  forget  my  labours,  which  are 
even  refreshed  with  the  sweetness  of  ihe  thoughts,  and  I  am  really  most 
busy  in  mind,  while  I  am  least  busy  with  my  task — occupied  with  my 
thoughts,  idlest  with  my  hands."  I  take  this  paraphrase  from  the  Phila. 
ed.,  where  the  passage  is  very  fully  and  ably  discussed. 

On  the  transposition  in  least  tvhen,  cf  i.  2.  375  above  :  "  Curtsied  when 
you  have,"  etc.     For  transpositions  in  S.,  see  Gr.  419-427. 

31.  And  yours  it  is  against.  Cf  A.  and  C.  ii.  4.  2  :  "  Hasten  your  gen- 
erals after  ;"  A.  IV.  iii.  4.  6:   "the  cold  ground  upon,"  etc.     Gr.  203. 

32.  Visitation.  Visit ;  its  ordinary  meaning  in  S.  He  does  not  use  visit 
as  a  noun.  Cf  AI.  of  V.  iv.  i.  153  :  "in  loving  visitation  was  with  me," 
etc.  Wr.  takes  the  word  to  be  a  continuation  of  the  metaphor  in  infected, 
and  quotes  L.  L.  L.  v.  2.  419-423. 

Look  wearily.  Cf  T.  G.  of  F.  ii.  i.  30  :  "looked  sadly  ;"  A/nch  Ado, 
ii.  I.  91  :  "  look  sweetly,"  etc. 

37.  Hest.  See  on  i.  2.  274  above.  Cf.  i  Hen.  IV.  ii.  3.  65  :  "On  some 
great  sudden  hest "  (quarto  reading) ;  and  see  also  L.  L.  L.  p.  157. 


ACT  III.     SCENE  II.  131 

A(hnii\i  Miranda  !  Ferdinand  refers  to  the  Latin  origin  of  the  name, 
from  the  gerundive  oimiraii,  to  admire. 

38.  The  top  of  admiration.  Cf.  M.  for  M.  ii.  2.  76  :  "the  top  of  judg- 
ment ;"   Cor.  i.  9.  24  :  "  top  of  praises,"  etc. 

42.  Several.  Separate.  Cf.  v.  i.  232  below :  "strange  and  several  noises." 
So  in  Milton,  Comtis,  25  :  "  commits  to  several  government ;"  Hymn  on 
Nativ.  234 :  "  Each  fetter'd  ghost  slips  to  his  several  grave,"  etc. 

45.  O'wed.     Owned,  possessed.     See  on  i.  2.  405  above. 

46.  Put  it  to  the  foil.     "  Foiled,  defeated  it  "  ( Wr.l. 

53.  Skilless.     Ignorant.     Cf.  7'.  y\'^  iii.  3.  9  :  "skilless  in  these  parts." 
57.  To  like  of.     Cf  Much  Ado,  v.  4.  59  :   "  if  you  like  of  me  ;"  L,  L.  L. 
i.  r.  107  :   "  But  like  of  each  thing  that  in  season  grows,"  etc.     Gr.  177. 

62.  Than  to  suffer.  Pope  reads  "  Than  I  would  suffer  ;"  but  the  inser- 
tion oi to  with  a  verb  after  its  omission  with  a  preceding  one  (especially 
an  auxiliary)  is  not  unconmion  in  S.     Gr.  350.     Cf  iv.  i.  72  below. 

63.  Blow.     Cf.  A.  and  C.  v.  2.  60  and  W.  T.  iv.  4.  820. 
70.  Hollowly.     Insincerely.     Cf.  M.for  M.  ii.  3.  23  : 

"  And  try  your  penitence,  if  it  be  sound, 
Or  hollowly  put  on." 

Invert.  Change  to  the  contrary;  as  in  T.  and  C.  v.  2.  122:  "invert 
the  attest  of  eyes  and  ears." 

72.  What  else  i"  (he 'Wi<rld.  Whatever  else  there  is,  anything  else.  Cf. 
3  Hen.  VI.  iii.  i.  51 :  "  With  promise  of  his  sister  and  what  else."  Gr.  255. 

84.  Your  maid.     Your  maid-servant. 

Fellow.  Companion.  The  word  was  applied  to  both  sexes.  Cf. 
Judges,  xi.  37  and  Ps.  xlv.  14  {Prayer- Book  version).  Companion  was  for- 
merly used  contemptuously,  2i%  fellow  still  is.  Cf  J.  C.  iv.  3.  138  :  "  Com- 
panion, hence!"  and  2  Hen.  VI.  iv.  10.  33:  "VVhy,  rude  companion," 
etc.  It  is  found  in  this  sense  in  Smollett's  Roderick  Random  (1748): 
"Scurvy  companion  !     Saucy  tarpaulin  !     Rude,  impertinent  fellow!" 

91.  A  thousand  thousand.     That  is,  farewells. 

93.  Who  are  surprised  with  all.  To  whom  it  is  all  a  surprise.  With 
all  was  changed  by  Theo.  to  "  withal. 

Scene  II. — 2.  Bear  up.  Take  your  course,  sail  up  ;  as  in  Otii.  i.  3.  S  : 
"  A  Turkish  fleet,  and  bearing  up  to  Cyprus." 

8.  Set.  Cf  T.  A'.  V.  I.  205  :  "  his  eyes  were  set  at  eight  i'  the  morning." 
Wr.  cites  also  i  Kings,  xiv.  4. 

14.  Standard.  Standard-bearer,  or  ensign.  The  quibbles  on  this  word, 
and  on  lie,  just  below,  are  obvious  enough. 

24.  Debosh'd.  The  old  spelling  oi  debauched,  z.x\d.  the  only  one  in  the 
folio. 

29.  That  a  monster  should  be  such  a  natural !  A  quibble  on  natural  as 
opposed  to  tiioustrcus  and  as  —fool. 

52.  But  this  thing  dare  not.     That  is,  would  not  dare.     Gr.  361. 

60.  Pied  ninny.  Alluding  to  the  motley  dress  of  the  professional  jester, 
or  fool,  as  the  r\'AX\-\c patch  (see  M.  of  V.  p.  142)  perhaps  does. 

64.  Quick  freshes.  Springs  of  fresh  water.  Quick  (=  living)  is  applied 
to  water  flowing  from  a  spring,  as  "living"  is  in  the  Bible,  etc. 


132 


jYOTES. 


67.  Make  a  stock-fish  of  thee.  "Beat  thee  as  stock-fish  (dried  cod)  is 
beaten  before  it  is  boiled  "  (D.). 

87.  IVfzaiid.  Throat,  windpipe  ;  the  only  instance  of  the  word  in  S. 
It  is  also  S]5elled  ii'eazand,  ivesand,  and  iveasand. 

89.  A  sot.  A  fool  (Fr.  sot) ;  the  only  meaning  in  S.  Cf.  C.  of  E.  ii.  2. 
196  :  "  Thou  snail,  thou  slug,  thou  sot !"  Lear,  iv.  2.  8  :  "  he  called  me 
sot,"  etc. 

92.  Utensils.  For  the  accent,  H.  compares  Milton, /".  7?.  iii.  336  :  "And 
wagons  fraught  with  utensils  of  war." 

94.  That.    That  which.    Gr.  244.     71?  f(?«j/^/£'r=  to  be  considered.    Gr. 

359.  405- 

97.  She.     Her.     See  Gr.  211. 

113.  Troll  the  catch.  A  calch  is  a  round,  in  which  the  parts  are  taken 
up  (or  caui^ht  up)  in  succession.  Troll,  as  a  noun,  means  the  same  as 
catch  (see  Wb.)  ;  and  to  troll  was  to  swig  as  in  a  troll,  or  catch. 

114.  While-ere.     A  while  ago.     See  Gr.  137. 

121.  The  picture  of  Nobody.  Probably  an  allusion  to  a  ludicrous  figure 
(head,  arms,  and  legs,  without  a  trunk,  or  body)  printed  on  the  old  popu- 
lar ballad  of  The  Well-spoken  Nobody  (Halliwell). 

124.  Take ''t  as  thou  list.     "  Take  what  shape  pleases  thee." 

133.  Will  hum,  etc.     See  on  i.  2.  198  above. 

137.   That  -loheti  I  wak'd.     So  that.     See  on  i.  2.  85  above. 

142.  By  and  by.  Presently;  as  in  M.  W.  iv.  i.  7,  M.for  21/.  iv.  2.  73, 
etc.     Cf.  Luke,  xxi.  2. 

Scene  III. — i.  By  V  lakin.  By  our  Tadykin,  or  the  Virgin  Mary. 
The  diminutive,  as  often,  expresses  endearment  =our  dear  Lady. 

2.  Ache.     The  1st  folio  has  "akes."     See  on  i.  2.  368  above. 

3.  Forthrights  and  meanders.  Straight  paths  and  winding  ones.  Cf. 
T.  and  C.  iii.  3.  158  :  "  Or  hedge  aside  from  the  direct  forthright."  There 
is  an  allusion  to  the  artificial  "  mazes  "  of  the  olden  time. 

5.  Attached.  Seized.  Attach  is  etymologically  the  same  as  attack. 
Cf.  Spenser,  F.  Q.  iii.  8.  33 : 

"Like  as  a  fearefull  partridire,  that  is  fledd 
From  the  sharpe  hauke  which  her  attached  neare." 

14.  Throughly.     Thoroughly.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  144,  note  on  42. 

21.  Drollery.  Puppet-show^  Cf.  2  Hen.  IV.  ii.  I.  156  :  "a  pretty  slight 
drollery. 

23.  One  tree  the  phanix'  throne,  etc.  In  Holland's  translation  of 
Pliny's  Nat.  Hist.  (xiii.  4)  we  read:  "  I  myself  verily  have  heard  straunge 
things  of  this  kind  of  tree  ;  and  namely  in  regard  of  the  bird  Fhwnix, 
which  is  supyosed  to  have  taken  that  name  of  this  date-tree  [called  in 
Greek  0o(Vi£]  ;  for  it  was  assured  unto  me  that  the  said  bird  died  with 
that  tree,  and  revived  of  itselfe  as  the  tree  sprung  again."  Lyly,  in  his 
Thoughts,  says:  "As  there  is  but  one  phoenix  in  the  world,  so  is  there 
but  one  tree  in  Arabia  wherein  she  buildeth."  Florio,  in  his  Ital.  Diet., 
defines  "  Rasin  "  as  "a  tree  in  Arabia,  whereof  there  is  but  one  found, 
and  upon  it  the  phoenix  sits."  See  also  the  opeiiing  lines  of  The  Ph(£- 
nix  and  the  Turtle. 


ACT  III.     SCENE  III. 


^ZZ 


29.  Islanders.     The  1st  folio  has  "  Islands  ;"  corrected  in  the  2d. 

30.  Cartes.  Certainly.  The  word  was  nearly  obsolete  in  S.'s  day.  He 
uses  it  only  five  times.     It  is  a  favourite  archaism  with  Spenser. 

36.  Muse.  Wonder  at.  Cf  Macb.  iii.  4.  85  :  "  Do  not  muse  at  me  ;" 
K.  John,  iii.  I.  317  :  "I  muse  your  majesty  doth  seem  so  cold,"  etc.  We 
find  the  noun  also  ^wonderment ;  as  in  Spenser,  F.  Q.  i.  12.  29  :  "  As  in 
great  muse." 

39.  Praise  in  departing.  A  proverbial  expression.  Praise  given  too 
soon  may  have  to  be  retracted. 

45.  Dew-lapp\i  like  bulls.  Doubtless  a  reference  to  the  victims  of 
goitre,  so  common  in  mountainous  districts,  especially  in  Switzerland. 

47.  IVhose  heads  stood  in  tlieir  breasts.  Cf  Oth.  i.  3.  144  :  "  men  whose 
heads  do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders."  Pliny  {A'at.  Hist.  v.  8)  tells  of 
men  that  have  no  heads,  but  mouths  and  eyes  in  their  breasts  ;  and  Hak- 
luyt,  in  his  yoj.iges  (159S),  describes  "a  nation  of  people  whose  heads 
appear  not  above  their  shoulders."  Bucknill  {Medical  Knoi.i<ledge  of 
Shakespeare)  suggests  that  the  poet  "may  only  refer  to  the  effect  pro- 
duced by  forward  curvature  of  the  spine,  in  which  the  head  appears  to 
be  set  below  the  shoulders." 

48.  Each  putter-out  of  five  for  one.  Thus  in  the  folio.  Theo.  suggest- 
ed "  on  five  for  one,"  which  W.  adopts.  Malone  (followed  by  D.)  reads 
"  of  one  for  five."  Collier,  K.,  the  Camb.  editors,  and  H.  retain  the  read- 
ing of  the  folio,  which  may  he  explained  as  "r//  the  rate  of  five,  for  one." 
The  allusion  is  to  "  a  kind  of  inverted  life  insurance"  v^'hich  was  in  vogue 
in  S.'s  day.  A  traveller  before  leaving  home  put  out  a  sum  of  money,  on 
condition  of  receiving  two,  three,  or  five  times  the  amount  upon  his  return. 
If  he  did  not  return,  of  course  the  deposit  was  forfeited.  Cf.  Ben  Jonson's 
Every  Alan  out  of  his  Humour,  ii.  3  :  "I  am  determined  to  put  forth  some 
five  thousand  pounds,  to  be  ])aid  ine,  five  for  one,  upon  the  return  of  my- 
self, my  wile,  and  my  dog,  from  the  Turk's  court  in  Constantinople.  If 
all  or  either  of  us  miscarry  in  the  journey,  't  is  gone  :  if  we  be  successful, 
why,  there  will  be  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  to  entertain  time  withal." 

52.  As  Steevens  notes,  the  introduction  of  Ariel  as  a  harpv  was  doubt- 
less taken  from  Virgil  {Ain.  iii.  209  fol.).    Cf.  Milton,  /'.  /'.  ii.  401-403. 

53.  l-Vhom  Destiny  . . .  hath  caused  to  belch  tip  you.  On  the  supplement- 
ary pronoun,  see  Gr.  249.  Up  you  may  be  an  accidental  transposition, 
as  W.  regards  it ;  but  see  Gr.  240. 

To  instrument.     For  an  instrument.     See  on  ii.  i.  72  above. 

59.  Such-like.     See  Gr.  278. 

60.  Their  proper  selves.  Their  own  selves.  Cf  Ci;///'.  iv.  2.  97  :  "  With 
my  proper  hand,"  etc. 

62.  Of  whom.     See  on  ii.  i.  124  above.     Gr.  264. 

63.  Bemock\Iat.  Cf  "hoped-for"  (3  Hen.  I'l.  v.  4.  35),  "  sucd-for  " 
(  Cor.  ii.  3.  216  ),  "  unthought-on  "  (  //'.  T.  iv.  4.  549  ),  "  unthought-of  (^  i 
Hen.  IV.  iii.  2.  141),  etc.     See  Gr.  431. 

64.  Still-closing.     See  on  i.  2.  229  above. 

65.  Dowle.  A  fibre  of  down.  The  word  is  probably  (see  Wb.)  a  cor- 
ruption o(  do7Vii.  In  2  //en.  IV.  iv.  5.  32  the  folio  has  "There  lyes  a 
dowlney  feather,"  and  in  the  next  line  "  that  light  and  weightlcsse  dowine." 


^34 


AOTES. 


66.  Like  iuvidiierahle.  Similarly  invulnerable.  Cf.  C.  of  E.  i.  I.  83: 
"  I  had  been  like  heedful  of  the  other  ;"  Hen.  V.  ii.  2.  183  :  "  Shall  be  to 
you,  as  us,  like  glorious,"  etc. 

67.  Mtissy.  Massive;  as  in  T.  tuid  C.  ii.  3.  18:  "massy  irons,"  etc. 
Strengths  is  plural  because  referring  to  more  than  one.  Cf.  wraths  in 
79  below. 

71.  Reqidt.     Cf.  "  Have  quit  it,"  i.  2.  148  above,  and  see  Gr.  342. 

77.  Than  any  death  Ctin  be  at  once.  Than  any  death-at-once  can  be. 
For  similar  examisles  of  transposed  "adjectival  phrases,"  see  Gr.  419a. 

80.  Falls.     On  the  number  of  the  verb,  see  Gr.  247. 

82.  Clear.  Pure,  blameless.  Cf.  Macb.  i.  7.  18:  "clear  in  his  great 
office,"  etc. 

86.  With  good  life  And  observatiott  strange.  Johnson  says  :  "  With 
good  life  may  mean  'with  exact  presentation  of  their  several  characters,' 
7vith  observation  strange  'of  their  particular  and  distinct  parts.'  So  we 
sav,  'he  acted  to  the  life.''  "  Or,  good 'life  may  mean  "good  spirit,"  and 
observation  strange  "  wonderfully  exact  observance  "  [of  my  orders,  or  of 
the  requirements  of  the  part].     On  strange,  cf.  strangely  in  iv.  i.  7  below. 

92.  IVhoin  they  snppose  is  dro7t'n\i.  For  the  "  confusion  of  construc- 
tion" cf.  K.  John,  iv.  2.  165:  "Of  Arthur,  whom  they  say  is  kill'd  to- 
night," etc.     Gr.  410.     See  also  Matt.  xvi.  13. 

93.  Mine  lov\l  darling.     See  Gr.  238. 

99.  Bass.     Utter  in  a  deep  tone  ;  the  only  instance  of  the  verb  in  S. 

102.  Bnt  one  fend.     Let  but  one  fiend  come. 

106.  Gins.     Not  a  contraction  of /v^/V/j-.     See  i1/rtf(^.  p.  153. 

108.  Ecstasy.  Madness.  In  S.  ecstasy  "stands  for  every  species  of 
alienation  of  mind,  whether  temporary  or  permanent,  proceeding  from 
joy,  sorrow,  wonder,  or  any  other  exciting  cause  "  (Nares). 


ACT  IV. 

Scene  I. — 3.  A  thread  of  mine  own  life.  The  folio  reads  "a  third," 
which,  as  D  remarks,  "  is  rather  an  old  spelling  than  a  mistake  :  in  early 
books  we  occasionally  find  third iox  thrid,  i.  e.  thread."  V.  retains  "third," 
but  K.,  Sr.,  St.,  W.,  H.,  and  others  read  "  thread." 

4.   Who.     For  -who—ivhotn,  cf.  i.  2.  80,  231  above. 

13.  Gift.     TJie  folio  has  "guest ;"  corrected  by  Rowe. 

15.  Virgin-knot.  Alluding  to  the  zone  or  girdle  which  was  worn  by 
maidens  in  classical  times,  and  which  the  husband  untied  at  the  wed- 
ding. W&v\c^  solvere  zonam^^io  marry.  Cf. /"i?;.  iv.  2.  160  :  "Untied  I 
still  my  virgin-knot  will  keep." 

18.  Aspersion.  Literally,  sprinkling.  There  is  perhaps  an  allusion  to 
the  old  ceremony  of  sprinkling  the  marriage-bed  with  holy  water. 

26.  Opportune.  Accented  on  the  penult ;  as  in  W.  7^  iv.  4.  511  :  "  And 
most  opportune  to  our  need  I  have."  S.  uses  the  word  but  twice.  Gr. 
490. 

27.  Our 'vorser gcnins  can.     S.  uses  tf^;.>vr  fifteen  times.     C(7«  =  "can 


ACT  IV.     SCENE   I.  135 

suggest,"  as  some  explain  it  ;  or  it  may  be  =  to  have  power,  to  be  able. 
See  M.  of  V.  p.  133  (note  on  May  you  stead  me  ?),  and  Gr.  307. 

29.  TAe  edge  of  that  day's  celebration,  etc.  "  The  keen  enjoyment  of 
the  celebration  of  our  wedding-day  "  (Jephson). 

31.  Sfoke.  The  -«  or  -en  of  the  participle  is  often  dropped  by  the 
Elizabethan  writers.     See  Gr.  343. 

37.    T/ie  rabble.     That  is,  "  thy  meaner  fellows." 

41.  Some  vanity.     Some  illusion.     Cf  the  old  romance  oi  Emarc: 

"The  emperour  sayde  on  hygh, 
Series,  thys  ys  a  fayry, 
Or  ellys  a  vanyte. " 

42.  Presently?     Immediately?     See  J/.  ^  F.  p.  131. 

43.  With  a  tivink.  "  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye"  {M.  of  V.  ii.  2.  177). 
Cf.  T.  of  S.\\.\.1i2:  "in  a  twink." 

47.  Mop  and  mow.  The  two  words  have  the  same  meaning  (see  on 
ii.  2.  9  above),  and  are  often  thus  conjoined  in  writers  of  that  day.  Cf. 
Lear,  iv.  I.  64  :  "  mopping  and  mowing  ;"  and  B.  and  F.,  Pilgrim,  iv.  2  : 

"  What  mops  and  mowes  it  makes  !   heigh,  how  it  frisketh ! 
Is  't  not  a  fairy?  or  some  small  hob-gobUn  ?" 

55.  White-cold.  The  folin  has  "white  cold,"  but  it  is  probably  a  com- 
pound adjective,  like  "sudden-bold"  (Z,.  L.  L.  ii.  1. 107),  "fertile-fresh" 
\m.  W.  v.  5.  72),  etc.     See  Gr.  2. 

56.  My  liver.  The  liver  was  anciently  supposed  to  be  the  seat  of  love. 
Cf.  Mitch  Ado,  iv.  i.  233  :  "  if  ever  love  had  interest  in  his  liver,"  etc. 

57.  A  corollary.     A  surplus.     See  \Vb. 

58.  Pertly.     Briskly,  promptly.     Cf.  the  adjective  in  yl/.  A'.  Z*.  i.  I.  13. 

63.  Stover.  Fodder  for  cattle.  It  has  the  same  origin  as  the  law-term 
estovers  (see  Wb.).  In  some  parts  of  England  it  means  hay  made  of 
clover.  Thatch'd  probably  means  "covered,  strewn,"  and  not,  as  it  has 
been  explained,  "having  shelters  thatched  with  straw." 

64.  Pioncd  and  lilted.  The  folio  has  "  jMoned,  and  twilled,"  which.some 
editors  have  retained,  explaining  it  as  "dug  and  ridged."  Steevens  says 
that  Spenser  has //(;«/;/i,'=  digging.  Rowe  changed  "  twilled"  into  "lu- 
liped,"  and  Capell  into  "tilled."  Others  have  changed  "  pioned  "  to 
"  pionied  "  and  "  peonied  ;"  but  Dr.  Johnson  gives  "piony"  as  another 
form  for  "  peony,"  and  the  spelling  of  the  folio  may  as  well  stand.  The 
peony  may  not  suit  our  modern  taste  as  a  flower  for  "  chaste  crowns," 
but  old  writers  are  cjuoted  who  call  it  "the  mayden  piony"  and  "virgin 
jjeonic."  It  has  been  objected  that  peonies  and  lilies  do  not  bloom  in 
Ai)ril,  but  Boswell  quotes  Bacon's  Essay  Of  Gardens :  "In  Apriil  follow. 
The  Doul)le  white  Violet  ;  The  Wall-Flower;  The  Stock-Gilly-Flower  ; 
The  Couslip  ;  Flower-De-lices,  and  Lillies  of  all  Natures  ;  Kose-mary 
Flowers;  The  Tulippa  ;  The  Double  Piony  ;"  etc.     Cf.  p.  150  below. 

66.  Broom  grtt'es.  Groves  in  which  broom  {Spartiitm  seof-.iriittii) 
abounds;  though  Steevens  asserts  that  the  broom  itself  sonieiinics  grows 
"  high  enough  to  conceal  the  tallest  cattle  as  they  jiass  through  it.  and  in 
places  where  it  is  cultivated  still  higher."  Ilanmer  changed  "bioiim" 
to  "  brown." 

68.  Lass-lorn.     Forsaken  liy  his  lass,  or  lady. 


136  NOTES. 

Pole-dipt.  Not  "dipped  so  as  to  be  trained  to  a  pole"  (as  Jephson 
explains  it),  but  with  the  poles  dipt,  or  embraced,  by  the  vines.  S.  uses 
dip  fourteen  times  (countmg  P.P.  148,  156)  in  tliis  obsolete  sense  (also 
iiidip  once),  and  only  three  times  in  its  ordinary  sense.  —  Vineyard  is 
here  a  trisyllable.     See  Gr.  487. 

71.  Watery  arch  and  messenger.  Iris  was  the  goddess  of  the  rainbow, 
and  also  the  messenger  of  Juno. 

72.  Bids  thee  leave  these,  and  .  .  .  to  come.     See  on  iii.  i.  62  above. 

74.  Her  peacocks.    The  chariot  of  Juno  was  drawn  by  peacocks,  as  that 

of  Venus  was  by  doves  (see  94  below). 

Amain.    Literally,  with  main  (which  we  still  use. in  "  might  and  main  "), 

that  is,  with  strength  or  force,  vigorously. 

78.  Saffron  wings.     Cf.  Virgil,  ^//.  iv.  700  :  "  Iris  croceis  .  .  .  pennis." 
81.  Bosky.     Wooded.     Cf.  Milton,  Cw«.  313  :  "  every  bosky  bourn." 
85.  Estate.    Grant,  or  settle  as  a  possession.    Cf. /^.  K /-.  v.  2.  13  :  "  the 

revenue  .  .  .  will  I  estate  upon  you."     See  also  ill.  A\  D.  i.  i.  98. 

89.  The  means  that  dusky  Dis,  etc.  The  means  by  which  Pluto  carried 
off  Proserpina.  See  Ovid,  Met.  v.  363  fol.  For  the  epithet,  cf.the  "  atri .  .  . 
Uitis"  of  Virgil  (ALn.  vi.  127),  etc. 

90.  ScandaPd.  Scandalous.  For  the  verb,  cf.  Cor.  iii.  i.  44,  J.  C.  i.  2. 
76,  and  Cymb.  iii.  4.  62. 

93.  Piiphos.  h  city  in  Cyprus,  one  of  the  favourite  seats  of  Venus.  Cf. 
V.  and  A.  1 193  and  Per.  iv.  prol.  32. 

94.  Thought  they  to  have  done.     Cf.  168  below,  and  see  Gr.  360. 
96.  Bed-right.     The  folio  reading,  changed  by  Sr.  to  "bed-rite."     • 

98.  Mars^s  hot  minion.  Mars's  ardent  favourite.  Venus  was  the  wife  of 
Vulcan,  but  loved  Mars.  Minion,  originally  equivalent  to  "  darling"  (Fr. 
viignon),  came  at  length  to  mean  "  an  unworthy  object  on  whom  an  e.x- 
cessive  fondness  is  bestowed."  In  Sylvester's  Du  Bartas  (1605)  we  find 
"God's  disciple  and  his  clearest  minion."  So  in  Stirling's  Domes-day : 
"  Immortall  minions  in  their  Maker's  sight." 

99.  Idas  broke.     See  on  31  above. 

102.  By  her  gait.  Cf.  Virgil,  yEn.  i.  46  :  "  divum  incedo  regina  ;"  and 
Per.  v.  I.  112:  "in  pace  another  Juno." 

106.  Marriage  -  blessing.  The  folio  has  "marriage,  blessing.''''  For 
"  noun-compounds  "  in  .S.  see  Gr.  430. 

no.  Eart/Ps  increase,  foison  plenty.  The  reading  of  1st  folio.  The  2d 
folio  has  "and  foison,"  which  is  adopted  by  many  editors.  See  Gr.  484. 
/"/«?«/!'  =  plentiful.  The  folios  give  the  whole  Song  to  Juno.  Theo.  made 
the  correction.     ¥or  foison,  see  on  ii.  i.  160  above. 

114.  Spring  come  to  you,  Qtc.     Ci.  Amos,\x.  it,. 

121.   Confines.     Abodes  in  air,  earth,  water,  etc.     Cf.  I/am.  i.  i.  155  : 

"Whether  in  sea  or  fire,  in  earth  or  air. 
The  extravagant  and  erring  spirit  hies 
To  his  confine." 

123.  So  rare  a  wonder'' d  father  and  a  zoise.  (ZL  K.  John, \v.  2.2"]  :  "So 
new  a  fashion'd  robe  ;"  C.  of  E.  iii.  2.  186 :  "  So  fair  an  ofifer'd  chain," 
etc.  See  Gr.  422.  Some  copies  of  the  ist  folio  read  "wise,"  and  others 
"  wife."     The  change  must  have  been  made  while  the  book  was  print- 


ACT  IV.     SCEA'E   I. 


137 


ing,  but  which  is  the  corrected  reading  cannot  now  be  determined.  All 
the  other  folios  have  "wise."  Rowe  reads  "wife,"  and  is  followed  by 
Tope,  Theo.,  Capell,  Johnson,  and  the  Var.  eds.  D.  gave  "  wise  "  in  his 
1st  ed.,  but  changes  it  to  "  wife  "  in  the  2d  ;  and  so  does  H.  K.,  on  the 
other  hand,  has  "  wife  "  in  the  ist  ed.  and  "  wise  "  in  the"  2d.  Sr.  and  the 
Camb.  editors  have  "  wife  ;"  St.,  "  so  rare  a  wonder,  and  a  father  wise  ;" 
\V.,  "wise."      W^('«;/(?r\/=  wonder-working.     Cf.  p.  151  below. 

128.  Winding  brooks.  The  folio  has  "windring,"  and  it  is  doubtful 
whether  we  should  read  "wand'ring"  or  "winding." 

129.  Sedg'd  cnnvns.  Cf.  Milton's  description  of  the  river-god  Camus 
(Lycidas,  104):  "his  bonnet  sedge."     Walker  suggests  "sedge"  here. 

130.  Crisp  channels.  Rippled  or  ruffled  by  the  wind.  Cf.  Milton, /".  Z. 
iv.  237  :  "  the  crisped  brooks  ;"  and  Com.  984 :  "  the  crisped  shades  and 
bowers."  Schmidt  may  be  right  in  making  it  ="  curled;"  as  in  i  Hen. 
IV.  i.  3.  106.     See  our  ed.  p.  152. 

138.  Footing.     Dancing.     Cf.  i.  2. 377  above. 

142.  A%:oid!  Depart,  begone  !.  Cf.  A.  and  C.  v.  2.  242  :  "  Avoid,  and 
leave  him  ;"    W.  T.  i.  2.  462  :  "Let  us  avoid,"  etc.     Cf.  i  Sam.  xviii.  11. 

144.  Works.     Works  upon,  affects'.     Cf.  v.  i.  17  below. 

145.  Distemper'' d.  Disturbed,  e.xcited.  Cf. /Azw.  iii.  2.  312  :  "marvel- 
lous distempered,"  etc.     See  Gr.  439. 

l^^.  Inherit.     Possess.     See  AVc/;. //.  p.  152.     Cf.  ii.  2.  162  above. 

156.  Leave  not  a  rack.  The  folio  has  "racke."  AW/,  as  applied  to 
the  clouds  {Ham.  ii.  2.  506,  Sonn.  33.  6,  etc.),  is  not  the  same  word  as 
«/;(fc/t  =  wreck  (see  Wb.).  The  critics  are  not  agreed  which  is  the  word 
here;  but  we  ha\e  no  doubt  that  .S.  wrote  rack. 

157.  Made  on.     See  on  i.  2.  87  alcove. 

158.  Roicnded.  Perhaps  ="  finished  off"  (\Vr.)  ;  or  we  may  accept 
.Schmidt's  paraphrase;  "the  whole  round  or  course  of  life  has  its  be- 
ginning and  end  in  a  sleep,  is  nothing  but  a  sleep." 

167.  Presented.  Represented,  personated.  CL  M.  ^F.  iv.  6.  20  :"  pre- 
sent the  fairy  queen."     See  also  M.  A'.  D.  p.  156. 

176.  Unback'd  colts.     Cf.  I\I.  of  V.v.i.-ji  fol. 

177.  Advanc^l.     See  on  i.  2.  407  above. 

187.  Stale.  Decoy,  bait.  Cf.  B.  and  V.,Hnm.  Lieut.\\\.2:  "Stales  to 
catch  kites  ;"  Sidney,  Arcadia:  "But  rather  one  bird  caught  served  as  a 
stale  to  bring  in  more  ;"  Spenser,  F.  Q.  ii.  1.4:"  he  craftie  stales  did  lay," 
etc. 

193.  Hang  them  on  this  line.  The  folio  has  "  on  them."  Z;'//(r  is  the  old 
name  for  the  lime  or  linden  tree,  as  in  v.  i.  10  below  ;  and  the  tree  niav 
be  meant  here.  D.  says  that  Stephano's  joke,  "  Now,  jerkin,  you  are  like 
to  lose  your  hair,"  has  no  point  unless  we  assmne  the  "  line  "  to  be  a  hair- 
line. "  Buy  a  hair-line  "  is  one  of  the  cries  in  an  old  wood-cut  of  i6i  r, 
illustrating  the  trades  and  callings  of  that  dav  ;  and  in  Ia'Iv's  Miias,  a 
barber's  apprentice  facetiouslv  says,  "  All  niv  niistres'  lynes  that  she  drvcs 
her  cloathes  on,  are  made  only  of  -Mustachio  stuffe  "  (that  is,  of  the  cut- 
tings of  moustaches). 

197.  Jack.  Perhaps  =  Jack-o'-lantern,  or  Will-of-the-Wisp  ;  but  cf. 
Miuh  Ado,  i.  1,  186  ••  "play  the  flouting  Jack." 


1^.8 


A'O  TES. 


20I.  Good  my  lord.  My  good  lord.  Cf.  J.  C.W.  I.  255:  "Dear  my 
lord  ;"  R.  and  J.  iii.  5.  200  :  "  Sweet  my  mother,"  etc.     See  Gr.  13. 

215.  I,  thy  Call/mil.   See  J/.  ^F.  p.  152  (note  on  Few  ^W/),  and  (Jr.  209. 

219.  O  kitig  Stephano  !  O  peer  !  An  allusion  to  tlie  old  song,  "  Take 
thy  old  cloak  about  thee,"  one  stanza  of  which  (quoted  in  0th.  ii.  3.  92) 
begins,  "  King  Stephen  was  a  worthy  peer,"  etc. 

222.  A  frippery.  A  shop  for  second-hand  clothes.  S.  uses  the  word 
only  here.  ,_^^^__- 


228.  Let's  alone.  The  reading  of  the  folio.  Theo.  read  "  Let 's  along," 
which  D.  adopts.  Malone  proposed  "  Let  it  (or  Let 't)  alone,"  and  is  fol- 
lowed by  Coll.,  v.,  and  H.  \V.  retains  the  old  reading,  explaining  it 
thus:  "Let  us  do  the  murder  alone,  without  the  Fool's  aid."     In  iii.  2. 

50,  Caliban  says  to  Stephano  : 

"  If  thy  greatness  will, 
Revenge  it  on  him,  for  I  know  thou  dar'st; 
But  this  thing  [Trinculo]  dare  not.' 

233.  Jerkin.     A  kind  of  doublet. 

234.  To  lose  your  hair.  A  quibbling  allusion  to  the  loss  of  hair  from 
fever  (or  other  disease)  in  crossing  the  line,  or  equator. 

239.  Pass  of  pate.     Sally  of  wit.     Pass  (=  thrust)  is  a  term  in  fencing. 
241.  Livie.     Bird-lime  ;  as  in  T.  G.  of  V.  iii.  2.  68  and  Mach.  iv.  2.  64. 
244.   Barnacles.     Prol)ably  not  the  shell-fish,  but  the  geese  into  which 
these  were  supposed  to  be  transformed.    Marston  {Malcontent,  iii.  i)  says  : 

"like  your  Scotch  barnacle,  now  a  block. 
Instantly  a  worm,  and  presently  a  great  goose." 


ACT  r.     SCEXE  I.  139 

For  a  full  account  of  this  old  superstition,  and  an  explanation  of  its 
origin,  see  Max  Miiller's  Led.  on  the  Science  of  Language,  Second  Series, 
pp.  552-571  (Amer.  ed.).     Cf.  p.  152  below. 

245.  Villanous.  For  the  adverbial  use,  see  Gr.  i.  On  the  reproach 
implied  in  low,  cf.  T.  G.  of  V.  iv.  4.  198  and  A.  and  C.  iii.'3.  35. 

259.  Lies  at  viy  mercy,  ttc.  See  on  i.  i.  15  above.  D.,  \V.,  and  H. 
read  "  Lie,"  but  there  is  no  reason  for  changing  the  old  construction. 


^ 


ACT  V. 


Scene  I. — 3.  His  carriage.  His  load,  burden,  d.  31.  fFiii.  2. 179: 
"  taUe  all,  or  half,  for  easing  me  of  the  carriage."  See  also  Judges,  xviii. 
21,1  Sam.  xvii.  22,  Isa.  x.  28,  Acts,  xxi.  15,  etc. 

10.  Line-grove.  Changed  by  most  editors  to  "lime-grove;"  but  see 
on  iv.  I.  193  above. 

Weather-fends.     Defends  from  the  weather.     See  Gr.  432. 

11.  Tin  your  release.  Till  you  release  them.  Your  is  a  "subjective 
genitive." 

15.  Llim  that  you  termed.     On  him=he,  see  Gr.  208. 
His  tears  run.     The  1st  folio  has  "  runs  ;"  corrected  in  the  2d. 
23.   That  relish  all  as  sharply  Passion.    That  "  feel  everything  with  the 
same  quick  sensibility,"  or  that  are  fully  as  sensitive  to  suffering.    Schmidt 
and  Wr.  \wx\i.&  passion  a  verb  ;  as  in  /'.  and  A.  1059,  L.  L.  L.  i.  i.  264,  etc. 
33.   Ye  elves,  etc.    Some  expressions  in  this  speech  may  have  been  sug- 
gested by  Medea's  speech  in  Ovid's  Metamorphoses  (.book  vii.),  which  S. 
had  probably  read  in  Golding's  translation  : 

"  Ye  ayres  and  wiiides,  ye  elt'es  0/  hills,  of  brookes,  0/  vjoodes  alone, 
Of  standing  lakes,  and  of  ilie  night,  approche  ye  evencli  one, 
'J'hrough  help  of  w/t.'m  (the  crooked  bankes  much  wondering  at  the  thing) 
I  have  compelled  streames  to  run  clean  backward  to  their  spring. 
By  charmes  I  make  the  cahn  seas  rough,  and  make  tlie  rough  seas  playne. 
And  cover  all  tlie  skie  with  clouds,  and  chase  them  thence  again  ; 
Ky  charmes  /  raist-  and  lay  the  ■ivitidt-s,  and  burst  tlie  viper's  jaw, 
And  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth  both  stones  and  trees  do  draw ; 
Whole  woodes  and  forrests  I  renioue,  /  }>iake  the  mountains  sliake. 
And  even  the  earth  itself  to  groan  and  fearfully  to  quake. 
/  call  uf>  dead  men  from  their  irraves,  and  thee,  O  lightsome  moone, 
I  darken  oft,  though  beaten  brass  abate  thy  peril  soone : 
Our  sorcerie  dimmes  tlie  morning  faire,  and  darks  the  sun  at  noone. 
The  flaming  breath  of  fierie  bulles  ye  quenched  for  my  sake. 
And  caused  their  unwieldy  neckes  the  bended  yoke  to  take. 
Among  ihe  earth-bred  brothers  you  a  mortal  tvarre  did  set. 
And  brought  asleep  the  dragon  lell,  whose  eyes  were  never  shet." 

37.  Green  sour  tinglets.  "Fairy  rings,"  or  circles  on  the  grass  sup- 
posed to  be  made  by  the  elves  in  their  nightly  dances.  Dr.  Grey  {Xotes 
on  S.)  says  they  "are  higher,  sowrer,  and  of  a  deeper  green  than  the  grass 
which  grows  round  them."  They  were  long  a  mysterv  even  to  scientific 
men.  Priestley  (1767)  asciibed  them  to  the  effects  of  lightning  ;  Pennant 
(1776)  and  others,  to  the  imrrowing  of  moles,  by  which  the  soil  was  loosened 
and  thus  made  more  productive  ;  Wollaston  (,1807),  to  the  spreadmg  of  a 


140 


NOTES. 


kind  of  agariciini,  or  fungus,  which  enriches  the  ground  by  its  decay. 
This  last  explanation  is  nuw  kntivvn  to  be  a  correct  one. 

39.  A/us/irootns.     The  folio  has  the  old  form,  "  inuslirumiJS." 
41.   Weak  masters.    This  is  commonly  explained,  "  weak  if  left  to  your- 
selves," though  powerful  auxiliaries  (as  we  say  that  "  fire  is  a  good  ser- 
vant, but  a  bad  master '') ;  but  Jephson  thinks  that  "  masters  is  only  used 
ironically,  as  a  term  of  slight  contempt."     Of  the  two  interpretations  we 
prefer  the  latter  ;  but  the  "  irony  "  is  affectionate  rather  than  contemptuous. 
43.  Aziird.     .See  Gr.  294.     Walker  conjectures  "  azure." 
53    Their  senses  that.     The  senses  of  those  whom.     See  Gr.  218. 
58.  A  soleiiui  air,  etc.     May  this  solemn  air,  which  is  the  best  com- 
forter, etc. 

60.  Boird.  Cf  M.  N.  P.  V.  I.  4 :  "  seething  brains  ;"  and  W.  T.  iii.  3. 
64;   "these  boiled  brains  of  nineteen  and  two-and-tvventy." 

63.  Sociable  to  the  shina,  etc.     Sympathizing  with  what  appears  in  thine. 

64.  Fall.     See  on  ii.  i.  291  above.     Gr.  291.     On  fellowly,  see  Gr.  447. 
67.    The  ignorant  fumes,  etc.    "  The  fumes  of  ignorance  that  have  spread 

like  a  scum  over  and  obscured  their  clearer  reason"  (Wr.).   -Cf  iv.  i.  182 
above. 

70.  I  will  pay  thy  graces  Home.    I  will  repay  thy  favors  to  the  utmost, 
or  thoroughly.     Cf  i  Hen.  IV.  i.  3.  288:   "pay  us  home  ;"  Cymb.  iii.  5. 
92 :  "  satisfy  me  home,"  etc.     We  still  say  "  charge  home  "  {Cor.  i.  4.  38) 
and  "strike  home"  {Id.  iv.  i.  8). 
'  75.   Yoic,  brother  vmie.     On  'von  followed  by  thee,  see  Gr.  232. 

76.  Remorse  and  natttre.  Pity  and  natural  affection.  See  M.  of  V.  p. 
156,  and  cf  C.  of  E.  i.  i.  35  :  "  was  wrought  by  nature,  not  by  vile  offence." 

81.  Reasonable  shore.     Shore  of  reason.     C{.  ignorant  fimes  ■a.ho\Q. 

85.  Disease  me.  Undress  myself  Cf  IV.  Z".  17.4.  648:  "  therefore  dis- 
ease thee."     For  the  reflexive  use  of  the  personal  pronoun,  see  Gr.  223. 

86.  Sometime.     Formerly.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  130. 

91.  I  do  fly  After  summer.  Cf  M.  N.  D.  iv.  I.  loi :  "  Trip  we  after 
the  night's  shade;"  and  Milton, //)'w«  071  Nativ.  236:  "Fly  after  the 
night-steeds,"  etc.  Theo.  changed  sumtner  to  "  sunset,"  and  other  critics 
have  made  sad  work  of  the  Song  by  attempts  to  improve  the  pointing  of 
the  folio,  which  is  essentially  as  I  have  given  it,  following  V.,  Vi .,  and  D. 
The  meaning  is  well  brought  out  by  V. :  "At  night,  'when  owls  do  cry,' 
Ariel  couches  '  in  a  cowslip's  bell  ;'  and  he  uses  '  the  bat's  back '  as  his 
jileasant  vehicle  to  pursue  summer  in  its  progress  round  the  world,  and 
thus  live  merrily  under  continual  blossoms."  It  has  been  objected  that 
bats  do  not  "fly  after  summer,"  but  become  torpid  in  winter;  but,  even 
if  the  poet  had  known  this  zoological  fact,  he  might  none  the  less  have 
made  Ariel  use  the  creature  for  his  purposes.  The  "tricksy  spirit"  was 
not  limited  by  natural  laws. 

100.  Being  a-cunke.     For  the  construction,  see  Gr.  376. 

103.   Or  ere.     See  on  i.  2.  Ii  above. 

105.  Inhabits.     See  Gr.  333,  336. 

112.  Trifle  to  abuse  7ne.  Phantom  to  deceive  me.  Cf.  j%»z.  ii.  2.  632  : 
"  Abuses  me  to  damn  me."  We  have  the  same  expression  in  B.  and  F. 
{Bonduca,  v.  2) :  "  In  love  too  with  a  trifle  to  abuse  me." 


ACT  r.     SCEXE  I. 


141 


113./  not  know.     See  on  ii.  i.  118,  and  cf.  38  above. 

114.  Since  I  saw  thee.  We  should  now  say  "have  seen  thee."  See 
Gr.  347. 

117.  An  if  this  be  at  all.  If  indeed  there  be  any  reality  in  it.  The 
folio  has  "And  if."     See  Gr.  103,  105. 

119.  My  wrongs.     The  wrongs  I  have  done.     Cf.  25  (and  11)  above. 

123.  Taste  Some  siibtleties  of  the  isle.  "This  is  a  phrase  adopted  from 
ancient  cookery  and  confectionery.  When  a  dish  was  so  contrived  as  to 
ai^pear  unlike  what  it  really  was,  they  called  it  a  snbtilly.  Dragons,  castles, 
trees,  etc.,  made  out  of  sugar,  had  the  like  denomination"  (.Steevens). 

127.  Fiiick.  Bringdown.  Cf.  A.  IV.  in.  2.  ^2:  "  pluck  his  indignation 
on  thy  head."     Fluik  is  a  favourite  word  with  S.     Cf  Cor.  p.  204. 

128.  Justify  yon  traitors.  Prove  you  traitors.  Cf.  A.  fF.  iv.  3.  64 : 
'^ Second  Lord.  How  is  this  justified.'  First  Lord.  The  stronger  part 
of  it  by  her  own  letters." 

139.  /  a7n  'woe  for  V.  I  am  sorry  for  it.  Cf.  A.  and  C.  iv.  14.  133  : 
"Woe,  woe  are  we,  sir."     See  Gr.  230. 

142.  Of  whose  soft  grace.     By  whose  kind  favour. 

145.  As  late.     As  it  is  recent ;  but  some  explain  it,  "and as  recent." 

Supportable.  Accent  on  the  first  syllable.  Cf  "detestable''  (A'.  John, 
iii.  4.  29  ;  T.of  A.  iv.  i.  33)  and  "  delectable  "  {Rich.  II.  ii.  3.  7).  Gr.  492. 
Abbott  himself  is  inclined  to  put  it  under  497.  Steevens  reads  "porta- 
ble," a  word  used  by  S.  in  this  sense  in  Lear,  iii.  6.  1 15  and  Macb.  iv.  3.  89. 

149.  Were  living.     "The  subjunctive  used  optatively  "  (Gr.  364). 

151.  Myself  were  niudded,  etc.  For  "myself"  as  subject,  see  M.  of  J'. 
p.  137  (note  on  Yourself).     Cf.  iii.  3.  loi  fol.  above. 

154.  Admire.  Wonder.  Cf  T.  iV.  iii.  4.  165:  "wonder  not,  nor  ad- 
mire in  thy  mind,"  etc. 

160.   Which  was  thrust  forth  of  Milan.     See  Gr.  266  and  166. 

170.  To  content  ye.  On  ye,  see  Gr.  236.  Content  (cf  the  French  con- 
tenter)  often  =  "please"  or  "  delight "  in  S.  Cf  ^am.ui.  1.24:  "it  doth 
much  content  me  To  hear  him  ;"  and  see  our  ed.  p.  216. 

171.  Here  Prospero  discoiiers  PWdinand  and  Miranda,  flaying  at 
Chesse.'"  Such  is  the  stage-direction  in  the  folio.  It  is  the  only  allu- 
sion to  chess  in  S.,  unless  there  be  a  punning  one  in  T.  of  S.  i.  i.  58, 
where  Katherine  says,  "  I  pray  you,  sir,  is  it  your  will  To  make  a  stale  of 
me  amongst  these  mates?'"  Steevens  thinks  that  the  introduction  <if  the 
game  here  was  suggested  by  the  romance  of  Iluon  de  Bordeaux,  where 
"■  King  Ivoryn  caused  his  daughter  to  play  at  the  chesse  with  Iluon,"  etc. 
But,  as  Prof.  Allen  suggests  in  an  Excursus  in  the  Pliila.  ed.,  even  if  S. 
did  take  a  hint  from  that  old  romance,  it  was  jirobably  because  he  was 
aware  that  there  was  a  special  ajiproiiriatcncss  in  representing  a  prince 
of  Naples  as  a  chess-player,  since  Naples,  in  his  day,  "  was  the  centre  of 
chess-playing,"  and  probably  famed  as  such  throughout  Europe. 

172.  Fuiy  me  false.     Cheat  me.     Cf  Gr.  220. 

175.  If  this  pro7.'e,  etc.  M.  says  (ist  ed.)  :  "The  sense  of  this  passage 
is  not  altogether  clear.  The  word  riot  seems  wanting  after  frove  ;  unless 
y'havc  by  some  means  got  substituted  for  but.  Alonso  has  lost  his  son 
once,  and  if  this  which  he  now  sees  prove  tiot  a  mere  vision,  he  will  have 


142 


NOTES. 


to  lose  him  again."  We  can  see  no  difficulty  in  the  passage.  If  this 
be  a  mere  vision,  his  son  is  not  restored  to  him,  and  he  must  rt;'<f/;/  give 
him  up  as  lost.  [In  the  "Harvard"  ed.  published  since  this  was  writ- 
ten, H.  adopts  this  explanation.] 

196.  I  am  hers.     That  is,  her  father. 

200.  Inly.     Inwardly  ;  as  in  Hen.  V.  iv.  chor.  24  :   "  inly  ruminate." 

203.  Chidli'd  foith  the  zvny.  We  should  say  "chalked  out  the  way." 
Cf.  Hen.  VIII.  i.  i.  60  :  "Chalks  successors  their  way." 

213.  No  man  was  his  07vn.     Was  master  of  himself,  or  in  his  senses. 
'  214.  Still  embrace.     Ever  embrace.     .See  on  i.  2.  229  above. 

216.  Here  is  more  of  us.     See  on  i.  2.  477  above. 

221.  Safely  found  our  Icing-  and  company.  That  is,  found  them  safe. 
Cf,  just  below,  "  freshly  beheld,"  etc.  S.  often  uses  adverbs  as  "  predicate 
adjectives,"  a  fact  not  mentioned  by  Abbott,  though  he  refers  to  the  use 
of  adverbs  for  adjectives  after  is  (Gr.,78).  Cf.  above  (iii.  i.  32),  "look 
wearily  "  for  "  look  weary."  So  in  M.  W.  ii.  i.  198 :  "  looks  so  merrily  ;" 
A.  Y.  L.  i.  2.  162:  "he  looks  successfully,"  etc.  But  elsewl^ere  we  have 
"looks  pale,"  "looks  sad,"  "look  stern,"  "look  fair,"  etc.  We  find 
also  the  adjective  for  the  adverb,  as  in  i  Hen.  VI.  i.  2.  117  :  "  Meantime 
look  gracious  on  thy  prostrate  thrall,"  etc.  The  two  constructions  are 
often  confounded  by  good  writers  even  in  our  day. 

223.  Gave  out  split.  Gave  up  as  gone  to  pieces.  Cf.  A.  ]V.  ii.  3.  16: 
"gave  him  out  incurable,"  etci 

224:   Yare.     See  on  i.  i.  3  above. 

226.  Tricksy.  Steevens  (followed  by  D.)  explains  the  word  as  "clever, 
adroit;"  Jephson  as  "  prettv  or  engaging;"  others  as  "cunning,  sport- 
ive," etc.  Rich.  [Diet.]  defines  it  "trickish,  artful,  dexterous,  adroit,  act- 
ive, smart,"  and  cites  Warner,  Albion's  Eng.  vi.  31  : 

"There  was  a  tricksie  girle,  I  wot. 
Albeit  clad  in  grey, 
As  peart  as  bird,  as  straite  as  boult, 
As  fresh  as  flower  in  May." 

230.  Dead  of  sleep.  The  folio  reading.  Malone  read  "on  sleep"  (cf. 
Acts,  xiii.  36),  but  on  and  of  w eve  often  used  interchangeably.  Gr.  180, 
182.     Abbott  himself  puts  this  under  16S  {of="as  a  consequence  of"). 

232.  But  even  now.     Just  now.     See  Gr.  38. 

Several.     Separate,  distinct.     See  on  iii.  i.  42  above. 

234.  Moe.     See  on  ii.  i.  130  above. 

238.  Capering  to  eye  her.     Jumping  for  joy  at  the  sight  of  her. 

On  a  trice.  We  say  "  in  a  trice,"  as  S.  does  elsewhere.  In  Lear,  i.  i. 
219  we  have  "in  this  trice  of  time." 

240.  Mo/'ing.  The  folio  has  "  moaping,"  and  some  editors  print  "  mop- 
ping (  =  grimacing).  The  Phila.  ed.  explains  it  rightly  :  "  Depressed  and 
moping,  because  suddenly  interrupted  in  the  midst  of  their  rejoicing, 
separated  from  their  companions,  and  'enforced'  to  go,  whither  they 
knew  not,  by  some  irresistible  supernatural  power." 

244.  Conduct.  Conductor.  CL  Rich.  II.  iv.  I.  157:  "I  will  be  his 
conduct ;"  R.  and  J.  v.  3.  116  :  "  Come,  bitter  conduct,  come,  unsavoury 
guide !"  etc. 


ACT  r.     SCEiVE  I. 


M3 


246.  Infest.  Vex  ;  used  by  S.  only  here.  For  beating  on,  cf.  i.  2.  176 
and  iv.  i.  163  above.     See  also  2  Hen.  VI.  ii.  i.  20  and  Ham.  iii.  i.  182. 

248.  Single  I'll  resolve  yon.  In  private  I  will  explain  to  you.  Prof. 
Allen  (Phila.  ed.)  suggests  that  simple  is  here  used  as  m  i.  2.  431  above. 
"  In  that  case,  the  train  of  thought  would  be  :  There  needs  no  such  re- 
sort as  you  speak  of  to  divine  means  (to  an  oracle)  to  rectify  your  knowl- 
edge;  /alone — /,  a  mere  weak  man — will  resolve  your  doubts." 

249.  Wliicli  to  you  shall  seem,  &tc.     \\h\c)\  explanation,  tic.     Gr.  271. 
Of  every  These  happened  accidents.     See  Gr.  12  and  295. 

257.  Coragio.  Courage  (Italian).  Cf.  A.  W.  ii.  5.  97:  "Bravely,  co- 
ragio !" 

261.  These  be.     Cf.  iii.  I.  I  above,  and  see  Gr.  300. 

267.  Badges.  The  stolen  apparel  they  had  on.  Johnson  says  :  "The 
sense  is,  'Mark  what  these  men  wear,  and  say  if  they  are  honest.'"  "  In 
the  time  of  S.  all  the  servants  of  the  nobility  wore  silver  badges  on  their 
liveries,  on  which  the  arms  of  their  masters  were  engraved"  (Nares). 
Hence  the  allusion  here  and  in  several  other  passages  in  S.  Cf.  R.  of 
L.  1053  : 

"To  clear  this  spot  by  death,  at  least  I  give 
A  badge  of  fame  to  slander's  livery." 

269.  One  so  strong  That,  etc.  For  the  relative  after  such  and  so,  see 
Gr.  279.     Cf.  316  below. 

271.  Deal  in  her  command,  etc.  "Act  as  her  vicegerent  without 
being  authorized,  or  empowered  so  to  do"  (Malone).  St.  may  be  right 
in  making  without  her  fower^" beyond  her  power"  (cf.  AI.  A\  D.  iv.  i. 
150). 

279.  Reeling-ripe.  Ripe  may  be  one  of  the  many  "  slang  "  terms  for 
drunk,  or  reeling-ripe  (ripe,  or  fit  for  reeling)  may  be  a  compound  like 
iveeping-ripe  in  L.  L.  L.  v.  2.  274,  and  sinking-rife  in  C.  of  E.  i.  i.  78.  Cf. 
B.  and  F.,  \Voman''s  Prize,  ii.  i  : 

"My  son  Petnichio,  he  's  like  little  children 
That  lose  their  baubles,  crying-ripe." 

280.  This  grand  liquor,  etc.  An  allusion  to  the  "grand  elixir,"  or  an- 
rum  potabile  of  the  alchemists,  which  they  pretended  would  confer  im- 
mortal youth  upon  him  who  drank  it.  It  was  a  joke  of  the  time  to  com- 
pare sack  to  this  elixir,  and  "gilded"  is  elsewhere  found  in  the  same 
sense  as  here.  In  Fletcher's  Chances  (iv.  3),  in  reply  to  the  question, 
"Is  she  not  drunk  100.-"'  we  find,  "A  little  gilded  o'er,  sir;  old  sack, 
old  sack,  boys  !" 

283.  I  fear  me.     See  Gr.  296,  and  cf.  "  retire  me  "  in  3 1 1  below. 

289.  Sore.  For  the  play  on  the  word,  Steevens  compares  2  Hen.  VI. 
iv.  7.  9. 

290.  This  IS  a  strange  thing,  etc.  Steevens  read  "  as  strange  a  thing," 
but  other  examples  of  the  ellipsis  are  to  be  found  in  S.     See  Gr.  276. 

296.  Seek  for  grace.     Seek  for  pardon. 

The  nuptial.  S.  always  uses  nuptial,  except  in  0th.  ii.  2.  8  (cjuarto 
text  only)  and  Per.  v.  3.  So.  On  the  other  hand,  he  \\t^s  funerals  (cf.  the 
Latin  yi/M^Trt,  and  the  French  funerailles)  in  y.  C.  v.  3.  105  and  7'.  A.  i.  i. 
381,  though  elsewhere  his  word  is  funeral. 


144 


NOTES. 


310.  Our  (fear  helov'd  soleiniiizcd.  This  is  the  metre  of  the  folio  (as 
Boswell  remail<s),  and  is  followed  by  D.  and  W.  Collier,  K.,  and  11. 
print  it  "dear-beloved  soleniniz'd."  But  we  have  "solemnized"  in  L. 
L.  L.  ii.  I.  42):  "Of  Ja-ques  Falconbridge  so-lem-nized."  Cf.  the  one 
instance  of  the  word  in  Milton  iP.  L.  vii.  448):  "  Ev'ning  and  morn  so- 
lemniz'd  the  fifth  day."  In  M.  of  V.  ii.  9.  6,  K.  John,  ii.  i.  539,  and  i  Hen, 
VI.  V.  3.  168,  the  only  other  instances  in  which  S.  uses  the  word  in  verse, 
it  is  "soleniniz'd."  Abbott  shows  (Gr.  491)  that  this  peculiarity  of  ac- 
cent is  found  in  other  words  ending  in  -ized,  as  advertized,  canonized, 
aitthorizt'd,  etc. 

314.  /  II  deliver  all.     I  '11  relate  all.     Cf.  ii.  i.  45  above. 

T^K).  Please  you.    If  it  please  you.    See  Gr.  361,  and  yl/.  (t/T".  pp.  134,  136. 


EPILOGUE. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  Prologues  and  Epilogues  of  the  English 
Drama  are  generally  written  by  other  persons  than  the  authors  of  the 
plays,  and  White  with  good  reason  thinks  that  this  Epilogue,  though 
printed  in  the  folio,  bears  internal  evidence  of  being  no  exception  to  the 
rule.  The  thoughts  are  "  poor  and  commonplace,"  and  the  rhythm  is 
"  miserable  and  eminently  uu-Shakespearian."  It  is  apjjarently  from 
the  same  pen  as  the  Epilogue  to  Henry  VIII. — "possibly  Ben  Jonson's, 
whose  verses  they  much  resemble."  The  Epilogue  to  2  Hen.  IV.  is  an- 
other that  is  evidently  not  Shakespeare's  ;  and  it  is  a  significant  fact 
that,  in  the  folio,  these  three  Epilogues  "are  plainly  pointed  out  as  sep- 
arate performances."  "For  in  these  plays  the  characters  are  all  sent 
off  the  stage  by  the  direction  Exeunt,  and  the  Epilogue  is  set  forth  as 
something  apart  from  the  play,  being,  in  one  case,  separated  from  it  by 
a  single  rule,  in  another  by  double  rules,  and  in  the  third  being  printed 
on  a  page  by  itself,  while  in  the  other  plays  the  Exeunt  or  Exit  is  not 
directed  until  after  the  Epilogue,  which  is  included  within  the  single 
border-rule  of  the  page,  no  separation  of  any  kind  being  made."  A 
comparison  of  the  various  Epilogues  shows  that  "this  arrangement  has 
no  reference  to  the  personage  by  whom  the  Epilogue  is  to  be  spoken  ;" 
and,  as  no  other  explanation  of  it  can  be  given,  it  is  probable  that  the 
editors  of  the  folio  meant  thus  to  indicate  that  the  Epilogues  are  not 
Shakespeare's. 

10.  With  the  help  of  your  good  hafids.  "By  your  applause,  by  clap- 
ping hands  "  (Johnson).  Noise  was  supposed  to  dissolve  a  spell.  Cf. 
iv.  I.  126  above  :   "  hush,  and  be  mute,  Or  else  our  spell  is  marr'd." 

16.  Unless  I  be  relieved  by  prayer.  "This  alludes  to  the  old  stories 
told  of  the  despair  of  necromancers  in  their  last  moments,  and  of  the  effi- 
cacy of  the  prayers  of  their  friends  for  them"  (Warb.).  Jephson  thinks 
it  may  be  an  allusion  to  "  the  custom,  prevalent  in  S.'s  time,  of  conclud- 
ing the  play  by  a  prayer,  offered  up  kneeling,  for  the  sovereign." 

18.  Mercy  itself     The  divine  Mercy. 

Frees  all  faults.     Frees  from  all  faults.     See  Gr.  200. 


ADDENDA. 


ADDENDA. 


145 


The  "Time- Analysis"  of  the  Play. — As  Verplanck  remarks  (p.  28 
above),  the  "  unities  of  time  and  place  "are  strictly  observed  jn  this  play. 
'i"he  period  of  time  represented  is  little  more  than  is  required  for  the  per- 
foiniaiice  on  the  stage,  being  about  four  hours.  In  i.  2.  240  (very  soon  after 
the  shipwreck)  Ariel  says  that  the  time  of  day  is  "  two  glasses  "  past  noon, 
or  2  P.M.  At  the  beginning  of  the  last  scene,  in  reply  to  Prospero's  ques- 
tion, "  tlow  's  the  day  ?"  Ariel  replies  "  On  the  sixth  hour."  In  the  same 
scene  Alonso  speaks  of  having  been  wrecked  "three  hours  since,"  and 
says  that  his  son's  "eld'st  acquaintance"  with  Miranda  "cannot  be  three 
hours."  The  Boatswain  also  refers  to  the  wreck  as  having  occurred  "  but 
three  glasses  since." 

The  Seamanship  of  the  Play. — The  following  notes  on  this  sub- 
ject were  furnished  to  Malone  by  the  second  Lord  Mulgrave,  a  distin- 
guished naval  officer  : 

"The  first  scene  of  The  Tempest  is  a  very  striking  instance  of  the 
great  aceuracy  of  Shakspeare's  knowledge  in  a  professional  science,  the 
most  difficult  to  attain  without  the  help  of  experience.  He  must  have 
acquired  it  by  conversation  with  some  of  the  most  skilful  seamen  of  that 
time.  .  .  . 

'i'he  succession  of  events  is  strictly  observed  in  the  natural  progress 
of  the  distress  described  ;  the  expedients  adopted  are  the  most  proper 
that  could  have  been  devised  for  a  chance  of  safety  :  and  it  is  neither  to 
the  want  of  skill  of  the  seamen  or  the  bad  qualities  of  the  ship,  but  solely 
to  the  power  of  Prospero,  that  the  shipwreck  is  to  be  attributed. 

The  words  of  command  are  not  only  strictly  proper,  but  are  only 
such  as  point  the  object  to  be  attained,  and  no  superfluous  ones  of  de- 
tail Shakspeare's  ship  was  too  well  manned  to  make  it  necessary  to 
tell  the  seamen  how  they  were  to  do  it,  as  well  as  what  they  were  to  do. 

He  has  shown  a  knowledge  of  the  new  improvements,  as  well  as  the 
douljtful  points  of  seamanship  ;  one  of  the  latter  he  has  introduced,  un- 
der the  only  circumstances  in  which  it  was  indisputable. 

The  events  certainly  follow  too  near  one  another  for  the  strict  time 
of  representation  ;  but  perhaps,  if  the  whole  length  of  the  play  was  di- 
vided by  the  time  allowed  by  the  critics,  the  portion  allotcd  to  this  scene 
might  not  be  too  little  for  the  whole.  But  he  has  taken  care  to  mark 
intervals  between  the  different  operations  by  e.xits. 

\st  Position.  1st  Position. 

Fall  to  't  yarcly,  or  we  run  our-  Land  discovered  under  the  lee  ; 

selves  aground.  the  wind  blowing  too  fresh  to  hawl 

upon  a  wind  with  tiie  topsail  set. 
K</;r  is  an  old  sea  term  for  briskly, 
in  use  at  that  time.  This  first  com- 
mand is  therefore  a  notice  to  be 
reaxly  to  execute  any  orders  quickly. 
K 


146 


ADDEADA. 


zd  Position. 

Yare,  yare,  take  in  the  topsail, 
blow  till  thou  burst  thy  wind,  if 
room  enough. 


yl  Position. 

Down  w-ith  the  topmast. — Yare, 
lower,  lower,  bring  her  to  try  with 
the  main  course. 


i^th  Position. 
Lay  her  a-hold,  a-hold ;  set  her 
two  courses,  off  to  sea   again,  lay 
her  oif. 


^th  Position. 
We  split,  we  split. 


2d  Position. 

The  topsail  is  taken  in.  '  Blow 
till  thou  burst  thy  wind,  if  room 
enough.'  The  danger  in  a  good 
sea  boat  is  only  from  being  too 
near  the  land :  this  is  introduced 
here  to  account  for  the  next  order. 

2,d  Position. 

The  gale  increasing,  the  topmast 
is  struck,  to  take  the  weight  from 
aloft,  make  the  ship  drift  less  to 
leeward,  and  bear  the  mainsail  un- 
(^er  which  the  ship  is  laid  to. 

^th  Position. 

The  ship,  having  driven  near  the 
shore,  the  mainsail  is  hawled  up  ; 
the  ship  wore,  and  the  two  courses 
set  on  the  other  tack,  to  endeavour 
to  clear  the  land  that  way. 

5///  Position. 
The  ship  not  able  to  weather  a 
point,  is  driven  on  shore." 


^Vr.  adds  the  following  observations  to  the  same  effect  bv  Captain 
E.  K.  Calver,  R.N.,  F.R.S. : 

"The  craft  is  in  a  storm,  and  the  Boatswain's  anxiety  is  evidently  not 
about  the  strength  of  the  wind,  but  the  room  at  disposal;  'Blow,  till 
thou  burst  thy  wind,  if  room  enough.''  The  special  danger  was  that  of 
being  cast  upon,  or  pressed  upon,  a  lee  shore,  and  like  a  good  sailor  the 
Boatswain  did  that  which  any  good  sailor  would  do  in  the  present  day, 
he  struck  those  masts  which  would  be  a  hindrance  to  his  getting  off  a 
lee  shore  (from  their  producing  resistance  and  not  propulsion),  and  set 
that  canvas  which  would  help  to  safety.  '  Down  with  the  topmast !'  that 
is,  strike,  or  lower,  the  topmast  down  to  the  cap,  as  it  holds  wind  and 
retards  the  ship;  and  evidently  the  main  topmast,  as  only  one  is  men- 
tioned. It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  illustrations  of  ships  of  the  period 
generally  represent  them  without  a  fore  topmast.  '  Vare,  yare  !'  care- 
fully and  quickly:  'lower,  lower!'  the  topmast.  Rigged  as  vessels  now 
are,  with  long  topmasts,  and  short  slings  and  trusses,  a  course,  or  square 
mainsail  or  foresail,  could  not  be  set  with  the  topmast  struck  or  lowered  ; 
but  with  the  carracks,  or  rudimentary  ships  of  Elizabeth's  age  (and  it  is 
probable  Shakespeare's  ship  was  one  of  them),  with  their  short,  or  pole- 
like topmasts,  and  lower  yards  slung  a  third  of  the  mast  down,  such  an 
operation  would  be  comparatively  easy.  '  Bring  her  to  try  with  main- 
course.'     The  main-course  and  mainsail  are  one  and  the  same,  and  the 


A  DDE  A  DA.  147 

reason  the  Boatswain  wanted  this  set  was  because  it  is  a  sail  of  great 
size  in  the  body  of  the  ship,  and  propelled  by  it  the  ship  quickens  her 
rate,  keeps  closer  to  (or  in  the  direction  of;  the  wind,  and  makes  less 
lee-way  (or  drift).  'Bring  her  to  try  with  main-course;'  that  is,  see  if 
she  will  bear  the  main-course  and  whether  it  will  be  sutficient ;  but  in  a 
little  time,  as  the  occasion  seemed  to  be  more  urgent  and  the  effect  of 
the  single  sail  unsatisfactory,  the  Boatswain  cries  '  Lay  her  a-hold,  a-hold  I 
set  her  two  courses  ;  off  to  sea  again  !  lay  her  off!'  To  understand  this 
order,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  in  mind  the  Boatswain's  view  of  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  he  was  placed.  He  did  not  care,  he  said,  about 
the  foice  of  the  wind,  but  he  was  afraid  they  had  not  sea-room.  'Blow, 
till  thou  burst  thy  wind,  if  room  enough!'  makes  this  clear,  and  that  there 
was  sutficient  cause  for  alarm  upon  this  point  is  also  apparent  from  a 
passage  in  the  second  scene,  where  Prospero,  questioning  Ariel  with  ref- 
erence to  the  ship  and  her  perils,  asks  'But  was  not  this  nigh  shore.'' 
and  he  replies,  'Close  by,  my  master.'  In  short,  the  Boatswain,  in  the 
first  instance,  did  what  appeared  to  him  to  be  needed  ;  but  now,  after  a 
short  interval,  whether  owing  to  the' sluggishness  of  the  ship,  or  to  the 
lee-shore  being  closer  than  he  had  imagined,  he,  unceasingly  alive  to  the 
danger,  and  oblivious  of  the  taunts  of  the  passengers,  gave  the  above  or- 
der:  'Lay  her  a-hold,  a-hold  !'  keep  her  to  the  wind,  or  as  close  to  the 
wind  as  possible.  '  Set  her  two  courses  :'  foresail  as  well  as  mainsail,  or 
twice  the  amount  of  canvas  already  spread  ;  and  'oft'  to  sea  again  ;  lay 
her  off:'  an  indication  of  the  object  of  the  order,  or  of  the  necessity  for 
gaining  sea-room  so  as  to  avoid  shipwreck." 

A\iw  I  arise  (p.  116).  All  the  attempts  to  find  anything  more  than 
the  literal  meaning  in  these  words  are  far-fetched  and  unsatisfactory  ; 
and  we  are  inclined  to  take  them  literally.  Prospero  is  about  lo  bring 
his  narrative  to  an  end,  and  rises — pmbably  to  put  on  his  mantle  again, 
as  D.  assumes.  Miranda  is  going  to  rise  also,  but  her  father  bicbs  her 
"sit  still  "  and  hear  the  little  that  remains  to  be  told  of  their  "sea-sor- 
row." She  wants  to  know  further  what  were  his  reasons  for  raising  the 
storm — but  he  answers  her  briefly,  bids  her  "cease  more  questions,"  puts 
her  to  sleep,  and  hastens  to  call  Ariel,  whose  report  of  the  tempest  he  is 
impatient  to  hear. 

hiflueitce  (i.  2.  182).  An  astrological  word,  and  rarely  used  by  S.  ex- 
cept in  that  specific  sense.     See  Lear,  p.  182,  or  IV.  T.  p.  162. 

Still-v,x\l  Berniootlus  (p.  1 17).  Wr.  quotes  Webster,  Duchess  of 
Mxilji,  iii.  2 : 

"  I  would  sooner  swim  to  the  Bermootha's  on 
Two  politicians"  rotten  bladders." 

In  the  year  1609  a  fleet  sent  out  by  the  Virginia  Company,  Sir  George 
Summers  being  admiral,  was  encoimtered  by  storms  and  the  admiral 
ship  was  driven  to  the  Bermudas.  "  Sir  Cieorge  Sommers,  sitting  at  the 
stearne,  seeing  the  ship  desperate  of  reliefe,  looking  eucry  minute  when 
the  shij)  would  sinke,  hee  espied  land,  which,  according  to  his,  and  Cap- 
taine  Newports  opinion,  they  iudged  it  should  be  that  dreadt'ull  coast 
of  the  Bermodes,  which  Iland[s]  were  of  all  Nations,  said  anil  supposed 
to  bee  inchanted  and  inhabited  with  witches,  and  deuills,  which  grew  by 


148 


ADDENDA. 


reason  of  accustomed  monstrous  Thunder,  storme,  and  tempest,  neere  vnto 
those  Hands,  also  for  that  the  whole  coast  is  so  wonderous  dangerous, 
of  Rockes,  that  few  can  approach  them,  but  with  vnspeakeable  hazard 
of  ship-wrack"  (Stow's  Aiuials).  Another  form  of  the  word  is  found  in 
Webster,  The  Devil's  Law-case,  iii.  2  : 

"  Why,  't  is  an  engine 
That  's  only  fit  to  put  in  execution 
Barmotho  pigs." 

See  also  Fletcher's  IVomeit  Pleased,  i.  2  : 

"The  devil  should  think  of  purchasing  thjt  egg-shell, 
To  victual  out  a  witch  for  the  Burmoothes." 

Past  the  mid  season  (i  2.  239).  This  speech  and  the  next  have  been 
variously  re-distributed  by  the  editors,  on  the  ground  that  "  Prospero 
asks  a  question  and.  yet  answers  it  himself."  Warb.  adopted  the  con- 
jecture of  Theo.  that  we  should  read  ;  * 

'■^  Pros/>ero.   What  is  the  time  o'  th'  day? 

Ariel.   Past  the  mid  season  at  least  two  glasses. 
.  Prospero-   The  time,''  etc. 

Johnson,  though  thinking  that  "this  passage  needs  not  be  disturbed,  it 
being  common  to  ask  a  question  which  the  next  moment  enables  us  to 
answer,"  suggested — 

'■'■Prospero.  What  is  the  -time  o'  th'  day?     Past  the  mid  season? 
A  riel.  At  least  two  glasses. 
Prospero.  The  time,"  etc. 

Staunton,  to  obviate  the  supposed  inconsistency  and  render  any  change 
in  the  distribution  of  the  speeches  unnecessary,  pointed  Prospero's  speech 
thus — 

"At  least  two  glasses — the  time  'twixt  six  and  now — 
Must  by  us  both  be  spent  most  preciously."' 

But,  as  Wr.  observes,  this  would  inake  the  time  4  P.M.,  which  hardlv  an- 
swers to  Ariel's  "  Past  the  mid  season  ;"  and  it  would  reduce  the  time 
of  the  play  to  little  more  than  two  hours,  when  it  is  clearly  not  less  than 
three,  and  probably  four  (see  p.  145  above).  On  the  whole,  though  Theo. 
and  Warb.  may  be  right,  there  does  not  seem  to  be  sufficient  reason  for 
disturbing  the  old  text.  Prospero  asks  the  time  of  day,  and  when  Ariel 
says  it  is  past  noon,  he  reflects  a  moment  and  decides  that  it  must  be  at 
least  tivo  hours  later  than  that.  He  ought  to  know  the  time  better  than 
Ariel,  but  forgets  this  in  his  j^resent  excited  state  of  mind.  Aridl's  loose 
reply  sets  him  thinking,  and  he  fixes  the  hour — perhaps  by  a  glance  at 
the  sun — more  precisely  than  his  airy  servitor. 

Water  'with  lerries  in  V  (i.  2.  333).  Wr.  remarks :  "  It  would  almost 
seem  as  if  this  were  intended  as  a  description  of  the  yet  little-known 
coffee.  '  The  Turkes,'  says  Burton  {Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  part  ii.  sect. 
5.  mem.  I.  subs.  5),  '  haue  a  drinke  called  coffii  (for  they  use  no  wine),  so 
named  of  a  berry  as  blacke  as  soot,  and  as  bitter,  (like  that  bhicke  drinke 
which  was  in  vse  amongst  the  Lacedemonians,  and  perhaps  the  same) 
which  they  sip  still  of,  and  sup  as  warme  as  they  can  suffer.'  This  pas- 
sage occurs  for  the  first  time  in  the  fourth  edition  of  Burton  which  was 


A  DDE  A  DA.  149 

printed  in  1632,  and  it  sliews  that  the  virtues  of  this  drinlv  were  as  yet 
only  known  in  England  by  report." 

His  brave  son  (p.  I2i).  Some  believe  that  tliis  son  may  have  been 
taken  from  the  story  on  which  the  play  was  possibly  founded.  St.  cwn- 
jectures  that  he  was  one  of  the  characters  as  the  play  was  first  written, 
but  was  omitted  when  it  was  printed.  He  thinks  that  each  player  had  a 
l>roperty  in  his  own  part,  and  that  sometimes  all  the  parts  could  not  be 
bought  up  by  the  publishers.  Fleay  suggests  that  "perhaps  Francisco 
is  what  is  left  of  him."  It  had  occurred  to  us,  long  before  Fleay's  Mun- 
ual  was  published,  that  Francisco  might  be  Antonio's  son  ;  and  an  ex- 
amination of  the  two  speeches  assigned  to  him  confirms  the  conjecture. 
In  the  first  (ii.  i.  no  fol.)  there  is  something  of  youthful  sympathy  with 
the  muscular  energy  of  youth,  and  of  youthful  hopefulness  as  well.  'I'he 
other  speech  (iii.  3.  40)  is  the  single  sentence,  "  They  vanish'd  strangely," 
when  the  spirits  that  have  spread  the  banquet  disappear  ;  and  this  seems 
like  the  e.xpression  of  youthful  wonder. 

A  Liugliter  (ii.  I.  33).  Dr.  Ingleby  [S'iakespea7-e  Hernicneutics,  p.  157) 
remarks' that  we  want  a  "  basis  ''  for  .the  pun  here.  "  Lang/itcr,"'  he  adds, 
"  may  be  the  cant  name  of  some  small  coin  (a  doit  or  a  denier)  commonly 
laid  in  betting.  At  present  the  only  meaning  of  the  word  (Uiiighter,  laftcr, 
latvter)  is  a  setting  of  eggs  laid  at  one  time.  The  word  is  in  Brockett 
\Glossary  of  Noyt't.Coitntry  \Vords\  and  is  still  in  provincial  use  :  a 
gamekeeper  at  Yoxford,  Suffolk,  told  us  that  he  found  he  had  better 
luck  with  the  second  laioter  (of  pheasant's  eggs)  than  with  the  first." 
Halliwell  (Archaic  Diet.)  gives  lafUr  as  a  Northern  word  for  "the  num- 
ber of  eggs  laid  by  a  hen  before  she  sits." 

An  eye  of  green  {y>.  123).  Wr.  quotes  Cotgrave, /^''.  Z>/r/.  .•  "Couleur 
de  Minime.  A  huswiues  darke  gray,  or  light  soote  colour,  wherein  there 
is  an  eye  of  gray;"  an-d  S-andys,  Travels:  "cloth  of  silver  tissued  with 
an  eye  of  greene." 

Bat-fowii)ig  (p.  125).  Markham  goes  on  to  descrilie  the  process,  as 
follows:  "For  the  manner  of  Bat-fowling,  it  may  be  vsed  either  with 
Nettes,  or  without  Nettes  ;  If  you  vse  it  without  Nettes  (which  indcede 
is  the  most  common  of  the  two)  you  shall  then  procecde  in  this  manner. 
First,  there  shall  be  one  to  cary  the  Cresset  of  fire  (as  was  shewed  for 
the  Lo'ii'l'ell)  then  a  certaine  number  as  two,  three,  or  foure  (according  to 
the  greatnesse  of  your  company)  and  these  shall  haue  poales  bound  with 
dry  round  wispes  of  hay,  straw,  or  such  like  stuffe,  iJr  else  bound  with 
])ieces  of  Linkcs,  or  Ihirdcs,  dipt  i'n  Pitch,  Rosen,  Grease,  or  any  such 
like  matter  that  will  blaze. 

"  Then  another  companv  shal  be  armed  with  long  poales,  very  rough 
and  bushy  at  the  vj^per  endcs,  of  which  the  Willow,  Hyrche,  or  long  Ila- 
zell  are  best,  but  indeed  acc(uding  as  the  country  will  afford  so  you  must 
be  content  to  take. 

"Thus  being  prepared  and  comming  into  the  lUishy  or  rough  ground 
where  the  haunts  of  liirds  are,  you  shall  then  tirst  kindle  some  of  your 
tiers  as  halfe,  or  a  third  part,  according  as  your  proui-^inn  is,  and  then 
with  your  other  bushy  and  rough  poales  you  shall  beat  the  Hushes,  Trees, 
and  haunts  of  the  Birds,  to  enforce  them  to  ri^e,  whicl;  done  you  shall 


15° 


ADDENDA. 


see  the  Birds  wliich  are  raysed,  to  flye  and  play  about  the  lights  end 
flames  of  the  fier,  for  it  is  their  nature  through  their  aniazednesse,  and 
affright  at  the  strangenes  of  the  light  and  the  extreame  darknesse  round 
about  it,  not  to  depart  from  it,  but  as  it  were  almost  to  scorch  their  wings 
in  the  same  ;  so  tiiat  tiiose  who  have  the  rough  bushye  poales,  may  (  at 
their  pleasures)  beat  them  down  with  the  same,  &  so  take  them." 

Marmoset  (ii.  2.  157).  "The  animal  known  at  present  by  this  name  is 
a  native  of  South  America,  but  the  word  is  found  in  the  language  long 
before  the  discovery  of  America.  In  Maundevile's  Travels  (  ed.  Ilalli- 
well,  1866),  p.  210,  we  read, '  In  that  Hille  and  in  that  Gardyn,  ben  many 
dyverse  Bestes,  as  of  Apes,  Marmozettes,  Babewynes,  and  many  other 
dyverse  Bestes.'  The  following  definition  occurs  in  an  early  Latin  and 
English  Dictionary,  Bibliotheca  EliotcE  (1548):  '  Cercopithecus,  an  ape 
with  a  taile,  called  a  marmoset.'  In  the  first  folio  it  is  spelt '  Marmazet '  " 
(Wr.).     S.  uses  the  word  only  here. 

Make  a  stock-fish  of  thee  (p.  132).  Wr.  quotes  Hollybnnd,  Fr.  Diet. 
1593  :  "  le  te  frotteray  a  double  carillon,  I  will  beate  thee  like  a  stocke- 
fish."  Cotgrave  (Fr.  Diet.,  s.  v.  Carillon)  has,  "  le  te  frotteray  a  double 
carillon.  I  will  beat  thee  like  a  stockfish,  I  will  swinge  thee  while  I  may 
stand  ouer  thee."  See  also  B.  J.,  Every  Man  in  his  Huinotir,  iii.  2  : 
'"Slight,  peace  !  thou  wilt  be  beaten  like  a  stockfish  else." 

Unicorns  (iii.  3.  22).  "  In  TopselTs  Hist,  of  Fourfooted  Beasts,  1658, 
a  chapter  'Of  the  Vnicorn  '  is  devoted  to  an  attempt  to  convince  'the 
vulgar  sort  of  Infidel  people  which  scarsely  believe  any  herb  but  such  as 
they  see  in  their  own  Gardens,  or  any  beast  but  such  as  is  in  their  own 
flocks,'  that  there  is  such  a  creature  as  the  unicorn,  whose  horn  has  vir- 
tue against  poison"  (Wr.). 

Onr  worser  geuins  can  (p.  134).  "In  medieval  theology,  the  rational 
soul  is  an  angel,  the  lowest  in  the  hierarchy  for  being  clothed  for  a  time 
in  the  perishing  vesture  of  the  body.  But  it  is  not  necessarily  an  angel 
of  light.  It  may  be  a  good  or  evil  genius,  a  guardian  angel  or  a  fallen 
sjjirit,  a  demon  of  light  or  darkness"  {Ei/inlmrgh  Review,  July   1869,  p. 

98)- 

Fioned  and  lilied  (p.  135).  The  peony  does  not  seem  an  appropriate 
flower  for  a  "chaste  crown  ;"  but  a  writer  in  the  Edinburgh  Keviexv  ((^ct. 
1872,  p.  363)  says  that  peony  is  the  provincial  name  in  Warwickshire  for 
the  "  marsh  marigold,"  which  "  haunts  the  watery  margins  as  the  con- 
stant associate  of  reeds  and  rushes,  blooms  in  'spongy  April,'  and  in 
common  with  other  water  flowers  is  twined  with  sedge  'to  make  cold 
nymphs  chaste  crowns.'"  The  local  pronunciation,  he  says,  is //cwr. 
Again,  as  Ilalliwell  {Archaic  Diet.)  gives  tivills  as  =  reeds,  this  writer 
maintains  that  '' tivilled  \&  the  very  word  to  describe  the  crowded  sedges 
in  the  shallower  reaches  of  the  Avon  as  it  winds  round  Stratford."  But, 
as  Wr.  remarks,  Halliwell  simply  follows  Ray  in  giving  t7vills  as="  quills, 
reeds,"  for  winding  yarn  ;  but  there  is  no  authority  for  going  further  and 
saying  that  it  means  "  reed,  the  name  of  a  plant." 

Clarke  remarks  :  " peoned  and  lilied  presents  a  poetical  picture  of 
brilliant  colouring  that  we  have  often  heard  both  Keats  and  Leigh  Hunt 
admire."     Some  have  said  that  the  mention  of  chaste  crowns  seems  to 


ADDENDA. 


151 


demand  the  previous  mention  of  flowers,  and  therefore  favours  pioned 
and  lilted ;  but  others  argue  that  the  reference  to  April  as  trimming  the 
banks  implies  that  flowers  have  not  been  mentioned  and  confirms  the  in- 
terpretation oi pioned  and  twilled  as  =dug  and  ridged.  One  argument  is 
just  as  good  as  the  other,  neither  being  conclusive.  The  mention  of  the 
fioned  and  lilied  brims  may  well  enough  suggest  the  reference  to  the 
origin  of  the  flowers  and  the  use  that  is  made  of  them.  Some  have  de- 
nied that  lilies  grow  on  the  banks  of  rivers  ;  but  Mr.  Ellacombe,  in  his 
riant-Lore  of  Shakespeare,  adopts  the  reading  lilied. 

Broom  groves  (p.  135).  We  see  that  Schmidt  explains  this  as  "per- 
haps woods  overgrown  with  genista,  pathless  woods."  St.  thinks  that 
yeUo7i>,  the  colour  of  the  broom,  is  "especially  congenial  to  the  dismissed 
and  lass-lorn  bachelor." 

So  rare  a  ixionder'  d  father  and  a  wise  (p.  136).  Mr.  Ashhurst  (Phila.  ed.) 
says  :  "  Miranda  must  be  the  chief  cause  of  Ferdinand's  finding  the  Island 
a  Paradise.  So  rare  a  ■wonder\l father,  meaning  father  of  so  rare  a  won- 
der, though  inverted  and  obscure,  is  hardly  beyond  tiie  limits  of  poetic 
license.  Having  spoken  of  Prospero  in  what  is  to  Ferdinand  his  most 
interesting  position,  as  father  of  admired  Miranda,  and  himself  her  be- 
trothed, he  then  passes  to  his  individual  characteristic,  wisdom.  This 
reading  has  at  least  the  merit  of  adherence  to  the  canon,  keeping  the 
text  unchanged  while  it  does  not  make  Ferdinand  guilty  of  omitting 
among  his  inducements  to  live  forever  on  the  Isle  the  Goddess  on  whom 
these  airs  attend." 

Wr.  remarks :  "  Both  readings  of  course  yield  an  excellent  sense,  but 
it  must  be  admitted  that  the  latter  [w/jf]  seems  to  bring  Ferdinand  from 
his  rapture  back  to  earth  again.  He  is  lost  in  wonder  at  Prospero's 
magic  power.  It  may  be  objected  that  in  this  case  Miranda  is  left  out 
altogether,  but  the  use  of  the  word y^^/Z/'tv- shows  that  Ferdinand  regarded 
her  as  one  with  himself" 

Ansu'ir your  summons  (iv.  1.  131).  H.  changes^^«r  to  "  our  ;"  but  your 
summons  is  the  simimons  received  by  you.  Cf.yonr  compensation  in  2 
above,  which  H.  explains  correctly  as  "  the  compensation  jjw<  receive.'''' 

We  are  snch  stuff,  etc.  (iv.  i.  156  fob).  Dr.  Ingleby  {Shakespeare  Her- 
meneutiis,  p.  139)  says  :  "  Hardly  in  all  Shakespeare  can  two  or  three 
successive  lines  be  found  more  touchingly  beautiful  than  these  .  .  .  To 
seize  the  central  or  leading  notion  here  is  not  difficult.  Jean  Paul — a 
man  worthy  to  be  Shakespeare's  unconscious  interpreter — was  certainly 
not  thinking  of  this  fine  passage  when  he  wrote  the  following  in  Flower, 
Fruit,  and  Thoru-f<ieces,  chap,  xv.,  which  I  quote  from  Mr.  E.  H.  Noel's 
admirable  version  :  '  And  he  thought  of  the  clouds,  the  cold  and  the 
night,  that  reigned  around  the  f^oles  of  life — the  birth  and  death  of  man — as 
round  the  poles  of  the  earth.'  What  docs  this  mean,  but  that  our  life  is 
rounded  by  the  sleep  of  birth  and  death,  as  if  they  were  its  poles.'  And 
ours  is  but  a  Utile  life:  but  little  is  included  between  those  poles,  so  lit- 
tle, that  we  tiiank  God  that  the  later  pole  is  but  a  sleep.  The  accom- 
plished author  of  Lorna  Doone  thus  freely  (and  legitimately)  employs 
Shakespeare's  image — only  there  is  one  word  which  one  might  wish  ex- 
punged, namely  off  before  of :  '  In  the  farthest  and  darkest  nook,  over- 


^52 


ADDEXDA. 


grown  with  glass,  and  overhung  by  a  wee]:)ing  tree,  a  little  bank  of  earth 
betokened  ///('  rounding  off  of  a  haphss  life.''  " 

Under  the  line(\\i.  I.  233).  Dr.  Nicholson  (Azotes  and  Queries,  3d  Series, 
ii.  49)  exjjlains  this  as  "meaning  it  was  put  as  were  the  stakes  at  tennis, 
and  so  could  be  taken  by  the  winner."     He  quotes  ¥\ox\o,  Secotid Frutes : 

"  T.   Let  vs  keepe  the  lawes  of  the  court. 
G.  'I'liat  is,  stake  money  vnder  the  line,  is  it  not  so? 
y.  Yea  sir,  you  hitt  it  right. 
//.  Here  is  my  monie,  now  stake  you." 

But,  as  Wr.  suggests,  the  phrase  may  have  another  meaning  derived 
from  the  same  game.  In  Heyvvood's  Proverbs  and  Epigrams,  we  find 
"Thou  hast  striken  the  ball  vnder  the  lyne  "  explained  as  "Thou  hast 
lost." 

Barnacles  (p.  139).  "In  Gerarde's  Herbal,  1597  (p.  1391)  is  a  chapter 
'  Of  the  Goose  tree,  Barnakle  tree,  or  the  tree  bearing  Geese,'  in  which 
it  is  said,  "There  are  founde  in  the  nort*h  parts  of  Scotland,  &  the  Hands 
adiacent,  called  Orchades,  certaine  trees,  whereon  doe  grqwe  certaine 
shell  fishes,  of  a  white  colcnir  tending  to  russet;  wherein  are  conteined 
little  lining  creatures  :  which  shels  in  time  of  maturitie  doe  open,  and 
out  of  them  grow  those  little  liuing  things  ;  which  falling  into  the  water, 
doe  become  foules,  whom  we  call  Barnakles,  in  the  north  of  England 
Brant  Geese,  and  in  Lancashire  tree  Geese.'  Gerarde  then  goes  on  to 
tell  what  he  had  himself  seen  in  'a  small  Ilande  in  Lancashire  called  the 
Pile  of  Fouldres,'  where  branches  of  trees  were  cast  ashore,  '  wheron  is 
found  a  ceitaine  spume  or  froth,  that  in  time  breedeth  vnto  certaine  shels, 
in  shape  like  those  of  the  muskle,  but  sharper  pointed,  and  of  a  whitish 
colour.'  In  process  of  time  the  thing  contained  in  these  shells  'falleth 
into  the  sea,  where  it  gathereth  feathers,  and  groweth  to  a  foule,  bigger 
then  a  Mallard,  and  lesser  then  a  Goose  ;  hauing  blacke  legs  and  bill  or 
beake,  and  feathers  blacke  and  white,  sj^otted  in  such  maner  as  is  our 
Magge-Pie,  called  in  some  places  a  Pie- Annet,  which  the  people  of  Lan- 
cashire call  by  no  other  name  then  a  tree  Goose  ;  which  place  aforesaide, 
and  all  those  parts  adioining,  do  so  much  abound  therewith,  that  one  of 
the  best  is  bought  for  three  pence  :  for  the  truth  heerof,  if  any  doubt,  may 
it  please  them  to  repaire  vnto  me,  and  I  shall  satisfie  them  by  the  testi- 
monie  of  good  witnesses'"  (Wr.). 

A  solevm  air,  and  the  best  comforter,  etc.  (v.  I.  58  fol.).  11.  reads  "as 
the  best ;"  but  this  use  of  and  (=:even)  is  not  unprecedented.  Cf.  Gr. 
95.  Me  also  adopts  Dr.  Ingleby's  conjecture  of  "the  brains"  and  "the 
skull ;"  but  the  words  may  be  supposed  to  be  addressed  to  Alonso,  who, 
according  to  the  stage-direction  (taken  from  the  folio),  is  the  frantic  leader 
of  the  party. 

The  folio  has  "boile"  for  boiPd,  which  is  Pope's  reading  and  generally 
adopted.  Dr.  Ingleby  would  retain  the  old  text,  assuming  an  eliipsfe  of 
'which  before  boil  (i\r.  244). 

Wrangle  (v.  I.  174).  Quarrel,  contend  rngrily  or  unfairly.  The  int- 
fairly  is  suggested,  not  directly  expressed.  Mr.  Ashhurst  (Phila.  ed.) 
explains  it  as  "win  unjustly  (used  in  its  old  sense  as  admirative  of 
ivrong).''^ 


INDEX   OF  WORDS  AND    PHRASES 
EXPLAINED. 


abuse  (-deceive),  140. 
aches  (pronunciation),  irg, 

admire  (=^ wonder),  141. 

advance  (=raise),  121,  137. 

adventure  (^venture),  125. 

ateard,  129. 

afore,  128. 

after,  128. 

again,  120. 

amain,  136. 

an(=if),  125.  I2g,  141. 

and  (  =  even),  152 

answer  your  summons.  151. 

apace,  140. 

Argier,  118. 

as  (  =  as  if),  124. 

as  (omitted),  114.  125,  143. 

as  (redundant),  113. 

aspersion,  134. 

attach  (  =  attaclc),  132. 

avoid  (begone),  137. 

azured,  140. 

badge.  143. 

barnacle.  13S,  152. 

bass  (verb',  134. 

bate,  iiS. 

bat-fowling,  125    149. 

be  (  =  are',  127. 

liear  up,  131. 

bemocked-at,  133- 

Hcrmoothes,  117,  147. 

berries  (coffee?),  148. 

best  (thou'rt),  1 19. 

betid,  1 12. 

beyond  man's  life,  126. 

blue-eyed.  118. 

boiled  brains,  140. 

bombard,  128. 

bosky,  13'i. 

brave  (     fine),  121. 

bring  her  to  try  with  main 

course,  1 10,  146. 
broom-groves,  135,  151- 
busiless,  130. 
but  even  now.  142. 
but  (  —  except  that).  121. 


but  (  =  otherwise  than),  115. 

Caliban,  1 18. 

can.  134. 

candied,  127. 

capering  to  eye  her,  142. 

cares,  etc.  (plural),  no- 

carriage  (—load);  139. 

catch  (=song),  132- 

certes,  133- 

chalked  forth,  142. 

changed  eyes,  121. 

cheer,  icg. 

cheerly,  109. 

cherubin,  115. 

chough,  127. 

Clear  (  =  pure),  134. 

clip,  136. 

closeness,  114. 

cockerel,  123. 

coil,  1 17. 

come  by,  127. 

companion  (contemptuous", 

131. 
conduct  (=guideV  142. 
confederates  (verb',  1 14. 
confines,  136. 
content  (noim),  127. 
content  (=pleasei,  141. 
control  (  =  confute',  121. 
cooling  of  the  air,  1 17- 
coragio,  143. 

cornels  of  the  earth,  122. 
corollary,  135. 
correspondent  to  command, 

118. 
courses  (  =  sails),  in,  146. 
courtesy,  120. 
crabs  (  =  apples),  129. 
crisp,  137. 
curtsy,  120. 

dead  of  sleep,  142. 

di-ar,  124. 

deboshed,  1  31. 

deck,  1 15. 

deliver  I     related  144 

dewlapped  like  bulls,  133 


Dido,  Widow,  124. 

Dis,  136. 

disease.  140. 

discharge,  126. 

distempered,  137. 

distinctly.  1 17. 

do  (omitted),  124- 

doit,  12$. 

dolour,  123. 

doubts  discovery  there,  126. 

dowle,  133. 

drawn,  127. 

drollery,  132. 

drowning  mark,  1 10. 

dry,  115. 

ecstasy,  134. 

estate  (verb),  136. 

ever,  116. 

eye  (=tinge),  123,  149. 

fadom,  121. 

fall,  (transitive),  127,  14"- 

fear  (reflexive),  r43  • 

tearful,  122. 

feat.  12  \  127. 

fcatly,  120. 

fellow,  131. 

fever  of  the  mad,  1 17. 

fine,  1 19. 

fire  (dissyllable',  in. 

flailing.  125. 

flat-long,  125. 

flote,  1 17. 

foison,  125,  136. 

footing  (-dancing),  137. 

foot  it,  1 20. 

for  (  —  against),  iii. 

for  (=as  for),  117. 

for  (  —  because),  1  iS. 

forthright,  132. 

fraughting,  1 12. 

free  (—to  tree  iroin',  145. 

fresh  (noun),  131. 

fripperj',  13S. 

from  (  -away  froin\  1 13. 

full  (adverb'.  1 12 

funeral,  14;. 


154 


IXDEX  OF  WORDS  AND  PIIKASES  EXPLAINED. 


gaberdine,  128. 
genius,  150. 
gentle,  122. 
gilded  (  =  drunk),  143- 
gins  (verb),  134. 
give  out  (=give  up),  142. 
glasses  (^hours',  117. 
glut  (=swallow),  HI. 
good  (vocative),  109. 
good  my  lord.  138. 
grace  (=pardon),  142. 
grand  liquor,  143. 
green  sour  ringlets.  139. 
grudge  (=murraur),  118. 

hand  (verb),  1 10. 

hearken  (transitive),  115. 

best,  118,  130. 

hint  (  =  cause),  115,  123. 

hollowly,  131- 

holp.  113. 

home  (=to  the  full),  140. 

honeycomb  (plural),  119. 

I  (omitted),  120,  122- 

if  heed  me,  125. 

ignorant  fumes,  etc.,  140. 

impertinent,  1 15 

importuned  (accent',  124. 

in  (=;\vhile),  132. 

inch-meal,  128. 

inclip,  136. 

incharitable,  in- 

infest  (=ve.\),  143. 

in  tew,  1 15. 

influence,  147. 

infused,  115. 

inherit  (=possess),  137. 

inly,  142. 

in  my  rate,  124. 

into  (=in),  118. 

into  (=unto),  114. 

invert,  131. 

is  (=are),  122. 

it  (=its),  120,  125. 

it's,  114,  120. 

Jack,  137. 

jerkin,  138. 

justify  {=prove),  141. 

key  (tuning-key),  114- 

kibe,  127. 

King  Stephano,  138. 

lakin.  132. 
lass-lorn,  135. 
laughter,  149. 
lay  her  a-hold,  iii. 
learn  (  =  teach),  119. 
let  "s  alone,  138. 
lie  Iplay  upon),  131- 
lieu,  lis 


like  (=alike\  134. 

like  of,  131. 

lime  (=bird-lime),  138. 

line  (;=lime),  137. 

liver  (seat  of  love),  135. 

look  wearily,  130. 

lorded,  1 14. 

lush,  123. 

lusty  (=vigorous),  123- 

maid  (=servant).  131. 
make  a  stock-fishof  thee,  1 50. 
manage  (noun),  113. 
marmoset,  129,  150. 
marriage-blessing,  136. 
massy,  134. 
meander,  132. 
meddle,  112- 
merchant  (=merchantman), 

.123. 
merely,  iii.  ' 

methinks,  1 10. 
might  (=could),  114. 
minion,  136. 
Miranda,  131. 
miss  (=do  without),  119. 
moe,  124,  142. 
moon-calf,  129. 
moon,  man  i'  the,  126,  129. 
mop,  135. 
moping,  142. 
more  better,  112. 
more  braver,  121. 
most  busy,  least  when  I  do 

it,  130. 
;  mount  (=raise),  128. 
mouihs,  cold,  1 1 1. 
mow,  128,  135. 
muse  (=wonder),  133. 
my  (subjective),  141. 
myself  (subject),  141. 

natural  (play  upon),  731. 
nature  (=natural  affection), 

140. 
needs,  114. 

nerves  (=sinews),  122. 
nimble  (lungs),  125. 
Nobody  (picture  of),  132. 
no  man  was  his  own,  142. 
not  (transposed),  124,  141. 
note  (=news),  126. 
now  I  arise,  116,  147. 
nuptial,  143. 

observation  (=obser\'ance), 

134. 
of  (=about),  124. 
of  he  or  Adrian,  123. 
of  (  =  in),  142. 
of  (redundant),  117,  131. 
old  (intensive).  119. 
omit  (=neglect),  125. 


on  (  =  of),  114,  119,  121,  124, 

137- 
one  (play  upon),  123. 
ooze,  118. 

opportune  (accent),  134. 
or  ere,  112. 
out  (=fully),  112. 
overtopping,  113. 
owe  (=own),  121,  131. 

painful,  129. 
Paphos,  136. 
pass  of  pate,  138. 
passion  (=sorrow),  120. 
■passion  (verb?),  139. 
pay  thy  graces  home,  140. 
peacocks  (Juno's),  136. 
pertly,  135. 
phoenix,  132. 
piece  (=niodel),  113. 
pied,  131. 
pioned,  135,  150. 
plantation  (play  upon),  124. 
play  me  false,  141. 
play  the  men.  no. 
please  you,  144. 
pluck,  112,  141. 
point  Ito),  116. 
pole-clipt,  136. 
poor-John.  128. 
praise  in  departing,  133- 
present,  of  the,  no- 
present  (^represent),  137. 
presently,  135. 
princess  (plural),  116. 
proper,  12S,  133. 
put  it  to  the  foil,  131. 
putter -out  of  five  for  one, 
133- 

quality,  116. 
quick  freshes,  130. 

rack,  137. 
rate,  124. 

rear  my  hand,  127. 
reasonable  shore,  140. 
red  plague,  119. 
reeling-ripe,  143. 
relieved  by  prayer,  144. 
remember  (thee),  117. 
remorse  (=pity),  140. 
requit.  134. 

resolve  (^eyplain  to),  143. 
revenue  (accent),  114. 
rid  (^destroy),  119- 
room  (=sea-room),  no. 
rounded,  137. 

sack  (=wine),  129. 
sad  knot,  in  this,  117. 
safely  (=safe),  142. 
saffron  wings,  136. 


TXDEX  OF  WORDS  AXD  PHRASES  EXPLAINED.      155 


sans,  114. 

scamels,  129 

scandal  (verb),  136. 

scaped,  128. 

screen  (figurative),  ir4. 

sedged,  137. 

sensible  (=sensitive),  125. 

set  leyes),  131. 

Setcbos,  120. 

sets  off(=offsets),  129. 

several,  131.  142. 

shaked  (=shook),  127. 

should,  120,  125,  127. 

shroud  (verb),  128. 

siege,  128. 

since  (with  past  tense),  141. 

single  (=weak),  121,  143. 

skilless,  131. 

so  (omitted),  114,  120,  132. 

so   rare  a  wondered  father, 

etc  ,  136,  151. 
sociable  to  the  show  of  thine, 

140. 
solemnized  (accent',  144. 
sometime,  140. 
sore  (play  upon),  143. 
sot  (—fool),  132. 
south-west.  iig. 
spoke  (participle),  135. 
spriting,  118. 
stale,  137. 
standard,  131. 
staniel,  129. 
steaded,  115. 
still  (=ever,'.  117,  133. 
stock-fisli,  132,  151. 
stomach  (—courage),  115. 
stover,  135. 
subtilty,  141- 
suggestion  (  =  temptation  ), 

127. 


I  supportable  (accent),  141. 
I  swabber,  128. 

take  't  as  thou  list,  132. 
I  taste  some  subtilties,  141. 
1  teen,  113. 
i  tell  (=count),  123. 
I  temperance (=temperature). 

i     '^a- 

'  tend  (:=attend!,  no. 
I  tender  (=regard),  127. 

that  (omitted,  etc.),  121. 
1  that  (=that  which),  132. 
I  thatched,  135 

third  i  =  thread),  134. 

thou'rt  best,  119. 

throughly,  132. 

to  (=for),  124,  133. 

to  (omitted),  121,  131. 

to-fore,  128- 

top  of  admiration,  131. 

trash,  113. 

trebles  tliee  o'er,  125. 

trenchering,.i29. 

trice  (on  a\  142. 

tricksy,  142. 

trifle,  140. 

troll,  132. 

twilled,  135. 

under  the  line,  152. 
undergoing,  115. 
unicorns,  150. 
urchin,  119. 
urchin-shows.  12S. 
utensils  (accent),  132. 

vanity,  135. 
vast  of  night,  iiq. 
villanous  (adverb),  139. 
vineyard  (trisyllable),  136. 


virgin-knot,  134. 
visitation,  13J. 
visitor,  123. 

waist  (of  ship),  117. 

ward  (in  fencing),  122. 

water  with  berries  in  t,  14S. 

weather-fend,  139. 

welkin's  cheek,  in. 

well  drawn,  129. 

wench,  115. 

wezand,  132. 

wliat  else  i'  the  world,  131. 

when  (of  impatience),  iig. 

which  (the).  115. 

which  (=who),  119,  129. 

while-ere,  132. 

whiles,  119. 

whist,  120. 

white-cold,  135. 

who  (=for  they',  131. 

who    {  =  which  ),   in,   124, 

133- 
who  (=whom).  113. 
whom  (=who),  134. 
wicked,  119. 

will  (customary*,  117,  '32. 
wink  (-  shut  the  eyes),  1;  5, 

127. 
with  a  twink,  135. 
woe  for't,  141. 
works  (=works  upon),  137. 
worser,  134. 
worser  genius,  150. 
wrack,  112. 
wrangle,  152. 

yare,  log,  142. 

yarely,  109. 

yond,  121. 

your  (subjective),  139. 


CALIB\N  (act  ii  scene  2^ 


SHAKESPEARE. 

WITH    NOTES   BY  WM.  J.  ROLFE,  A.M. 


The  Mei-chaiit  of  Venice. 
-—The  Tempest. 
Julius  Caesar. 
Hamlet. 

As  You  Like  it. 
Heury  the  Fifth. 
Macbeth. 

Henry  tlie  Eiglith. 
A  Midsummer-Nig'ht's  Dream. 
Ikichard  tiie  Second. 
Richard  the  Third. 
3Iuch  Ado  About  Notliing-. 
Antony  and  (Ileopatra. 
Itonieo  and  Juliet. 
Othello. 
Twelfth  iXi^ht. 
The  Winter's  Tale. 
King:  John. 
— Jlenry  IV.    Part  I. 
Henry  IV.    Part  II. 

Illustrated. 
FRIENDLY 


Kinsr  Lear. 

The  Taming-  of  the  Shrew. 

All 's  Well  That  Ends  Well. 

Coriolanus. 

Comedy  of  Errors. 

(^ymbeline. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

Two  (ientlemeu  of  Verona. 

Love's  Labour  's  Lost. 

Timon  of  Athens. 

Henry  VI.     Part  I. 

Henry  VI.     Part  II. 

Henry  VI.     Part  III. 

Troilus  and  Cressida. 

Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 

The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen. 

Poems. 

Sonnets. 

Titus  Andronicns. 

l6mo,  Cloth,  56  cents  per  vol.  ;  Paper,  40  cents  per  vol. 

EDITION,  complete  in  20  vols.,  i6mo,  Cloth,  $30  00 ; 
Half  Calf,  $60  00.     {So/d  only  in  Sen.) 


In  the  preparation  of  this  edition  of  the  English  Classics  it  has  been 
the  aim  to  adapt  them  for  school  and  home  reading,  in  essentially  the 
same  way  as  Cireek  and  Latin  Classics  are  edited  for  educational  pur- 
poses. The  chief  requisites  are  a  ])ure  te.\t  (expurgated,  if  necessary), 
and  the  notes  needed  for  its  thorough  e.xplanation  and  illustration. 

Each  of  Shakespeare's  plays  is  complete  in  one  volume,  and  is  pre- 
ceded by  an  Introduction  containing  the  "Ilistorv  of  the  Play,"  the 
"Sources  of  the  Plot,"  and  "Critical  Comments  on  the  Play." 


From  Horace  Howard  Furness,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  Editor  of  the  "AViw 
Variorum  Shakespeare.'''' 

No  one  can  examine  these  volumes  and  fail  to  be  impressed  with  the 
conscientious  accuracy  and  scholarly  completeness  with  which  they  are 
edited.  The  educational  purposes  for  which  the  notes  are  written  Mr. 
Roife  never  loses  sight  of,  but  like  "a  well-experienced  archer  Iiits  the 
mark  his  eve  doth  level  at." 


Ro/fe's  Shakespeare. 


Ffom  F.  J.  FURNIVALL,  Director  of  the  jVew  Shakspere  Society,  Londou. 
The  merit  I  see  in  Mr.  Rolfe's  school  editions  of  Shakspere's  Plays 
over  those  most  widely  used  in  England  is  that  Mr.  Rolfe  edits  the  plays 
as  works  of  a  poet,  and  not  only  as  productions  in  Tudor  English.  Some 
editors  think  that  all  they  have  to  do  with  a  play  is  to  state  its  source 
and  explain  its  hard  words  and  allusions  ;  they  treat  it  as  they  would  a 
charter  or  a  catalogue  of  household  furniture,  and  then  rest  satisfied. 
Rut  Mr.  Rolfe,  while  clearing  up  all  verbal  difficulties  as  carefully  as  any 
Dryasdust,  always  adds  the  choicest  extracts  he  can  find,  on  the  spirit 
and  special  "note"  of  each  play,  and  on  the  leading  characteristics  of  its 
chief  personages.  He  does  not  leave  the  student  without  help  in  getting 
at  Shakspere's  chief  attributes,  his  characterization  and  poetic  power. 
And  every  practical  teacher  knows  that  while  every  boy  can  look  out 
hard  words  in  a  lexicon  for  himself,  not  one  in  a  score  can,  unhelped, 
catch  points  of  and  realize  character,  and  feel  and  express  the  distinctive 
individuality  of  each  play  as  a  poetic  creation. 

From  Prof  Edward  Dowden;  LL.D.,  of  the  University  of  Dublin,  Au- 
thor of  "  Shakspere :  His  Alind  and  Art.^'' 

I  incline  to  think  that  no  edition  is  likely  to  be  so  useful  for  school  and 
home  reading  as  yours.  Your  notes  contain  so  much  accurate  instruc- 
tion, with  so  little  that  is  superfluous;  you  do  not  neglect  the  aesthetic 
study  of  the  play  ;  and  in  externals,  paper,  type,  binding,  etc.,  you  make 
a  book  "  pleasant  to  the  eye  "  (as  well  as  "  to  be  desired  to  make  one 
wise  ") — no  small  matter,  I  think,  with  young  readers  and  with  old. 

From  Edwin  A.  Abbott,  M.A.,  Author  of  "  Shakespearian  Grammar.'''' 
I  have  not  seen  any  edition  that  compresses  so  much  necessary  infor- 
mation into  so  small  a  space,  nor  any  that  so  completely  avoids  the  com- 
mon faults  of  commentaries  on  Shakespeare — needless  repetition,  super- 
fluous explanation,  and  unscholar-like  ignoring  of  difficulties. 

Frovi   Hiram   Corson,  M.A.,  Professor  of  Anglo-Saxon  and  English 
Literature,  Cornell  University,  Ithaca,  N.  Y. 

In  the  way  of  annotated  editions  of  separate  plays  of  Shakespeare,  for 
educational  purposes,  I  know  of  none  quite  up  to  Rolfe's. 


Rolfe^s  Shakespeare. 


From  Prof.  F.  J.  Chii.D,  of  Harvard  University. 

I  read  your  "  Merchant  of  Venice  "  with  my  class,  and  found  it  in  every 
respect  an  excellent  edition.  I  do  not  agree  with  my  friend  White  in  the 
opinion  that  Shakespeare  requires  but  few  notes — that  is,  if  he  is  to  be 
thoroughly  understood.  Doubtless  he  may  be  enjoyed,  and  many  a  hard 
place  slid  over.  Your  notes  give  all  the  help  a  young  student  requires, 
and  yet  the  reader  for  pleasure  will  easily  get  at  just  what  he  wants. 
'Sow  have  indeed  been  conscientiously  concise. 

Under  date  of  July  25,  1879,  Prof.  Child  adds:  Mr.  Rolfe's  editions 
of  plays  of  Shakespeare  are  very  valual^leand  convenient  books,  whether 
for  a  college  class  or  for  private  study.  I  have  used  them  with  my 
students,  and  I  welcome  every  addition  that  is  made  to  the  series.  They 
show  care,  research,  and  good  judgment,  and  are  fully  up  to  the  time  in 
scholarship.  I  fully  agree  with  the  opinion  that  experienced  teachers 
have  expressed  of  the  excellence  of  these  books. 

From  Rev.  A.  P.  Peabody,  D.D.,  Professor  in  Harvard  University. 

I  regard  your  own  work  as  of  the  highest  merit,  while  you  have  turned 
the  labors  of  others  to  the  best  possible  account.  I  want  to  have  the 
higher  classes  of  our  schools  introduced  to  Shakespeare  chief  of  all,  and 
then  to  other  standard  English  authors  ;  but  this  cannot  be  done  to  ad- 
vantage unless  under  a  teacher  of  equally  rare  gifts  and  abundant  leisure, 
or  through  editions  specially  prepared  for  such  use.  I  trust  that  you 
will  have  the  requisite  encouragement  to  proceed  with  a  work  so  hap- 
pily begun. 

From  the  Examiner  and  Chronicle,  A'.  Y. 

We  repeat  what  we  have  often  said,  that  there  is  no  edition  of  Shake- 
speare which  seems  to  us  preferable  to  Mr.  Rolfe's.  As  mere  specimens 
of  the  printer's  and  binder's  art  they  are  unexcelled,  and  their  other 
merits  are  equally  high.  Mr.  Rolfe,  having  learned  by  the  practical  ex- 
perience of  the  class-room  what  aid  the  average  student  reallv  needs  in 
order  to  read  Shakespeare  intelligently,  has  put  just  that  amount  of  aid 
into  his  notes,  and  no  more.  Having  said  what  needs  to  be  said,  he  Stops 
there.  It  is  a  rare  virtue  in  the  editor  of  a  classic,  and  we  are  propor- 
tionately grateful  for  it. 


Rolfe's  Shakespeare. 


Frofii  the  N.  Y.  Times. 

This  work  has  been  done  so  well  that  it  could  hardly  have  been  done 
better.  It  shows  throughout  knowledge,  taste,  discriminating  judgment, 
and,  what  is  rarer  and  of  yet  higher  value,  a  sympathetic  appreciation  of 
the  poet's  moods  and  purposes. 

From  the  Pacific  School  Journal,  San  Francisco. 

This  edition  of  Shakespeare's  plays  bids  fair  to  be  the  most  valuable 
aid  to  the  studv  of  English  literature  yet  published.  For  educational 
purposes  it  is  beyond  praise.  Each  of  the  plays  is  printed  in  large  cleai 
type  and  on  excellent  paper.  Every  diffisulty  of  the  text  is  clearly  ex- 
plained by  copious  notes  It  is  remarkable  how  many  new  beauties  one 
may  discern  in  Shakespeare  with  the  aid  of  the  glossaries  attached  tc 
these  books. .  .  .  Teachers  can  do  no  higher,  better  work  than  to  incul- 
cate a  love  for  the  best  literature,  and  such  books  as  these  will  best  aic 
them  in  cultivating  a  pure  and  refined  taste. 

From  the  Christian  Union,  A".  V. 

Mr.W.  J.  Rolfe's  capital  edition  of  Shakespeare  ...  by  far  the  best  etli 
tion  for  school  and  parlor  use  We  speak  after  some  practical  use  of  i 
in  a  village  Shakespeare  Club.  The  notes  are  brief  but  useful ;  and  th( 
necessary  expurgations  are  managed  with  discriminating  skill. 

From  the  Academy,  London. 

Mr.  Rolfe's  excellent  series  of  school  editions  of  the  Plays  of  Shake 
speare  .  .  .  they  differ  from  some  of  the  English  ones  in  looking  on  th 
plays  as  something  more  than  word  -  puzzles.  They  give  the  studen 
helps  and  hints  on  the  characters  and  meanings  of  the  plays,  while  th 
word-notes  are  also  full  and  posted  up  to  the  latest  date.  .  .  .  Mr.  Rolf 
also  adds  to  each  of  his  books  a  most  useful  "  Index  of  Words  an 
Phrases  Explained." 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

Any  of  the  above  -works  will  be  sent  by  7iiail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  ii 
I  'niied  States  or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


PR 

Shakespeare,  William 

2833 

Comedy  of  the  tempest 

A2R6 

1889 

PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
CARDS  OR  SLIPS  FROM  THIS  POCKET 

UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO  LIBRARY